The L's Have It
by Readwriter3
Summary: Everyone deserves happiness, especially the beloved Gilmore Girls. Through every trial and tribulation of life and love that one can endure, through the family issues and friendly antics that intercede, as old chapters are closed and new ones opened, this is a story of the lives of the characters we know and love, and how they weather it all.
1. Yay or Nay

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS.

_Logan just proposed. He. Just. Proposed._ This was the thought running through Rory's head, as they stood outside, much to the chagrin of the happy partygoers, eagerly awaiting her answer. Her mother had tried to redirect their attention away from the window, tried to convince everyone to forget that Logan had just asked Rory to marry him in front of all her grandparents' closest friends and family. But inside, Lorelai was just as anxious as they were.

* * *

_Logan just proposed. He. Just. Proposed._ This was the thought running through Lorelai's head as she stood at the window trying to give her daughter much-needed privacy. Lorelai _had_ given Logan her permission. True, he had not always been Lorelai's favorite person, but she could see how good he was for her daughter. Lorelai, while always supporting and encouraging Rory's ambition to go to Harvard and then Yale, worried that her daughter would never have any fun. Being the outgoing person she was, she wanted her daughter to find a balance between her academics and her social life. She saw that Logan gave Rory that balance. He debatably could match her talent for writing, and her ambition. He may have gotten her into trouble, brought out her wild side, but despite the yacht incident, and the blame she placed on him for the subsequent rift between her and Rory, Lorelai was secretly happy that her daughter had crept out of her shell of academia. But for all his positives, he had just done an incredibly stupid thing. Lorelai lingered by the window in her parents' monstrosity of a house a second longer than she should have, after shooing away the audience. She shook her head, knowing exactly why Rory had asked Logan outside. This was no way to propose to a Gilmore, especially not Rory. But Lorelai resolved to let her daughter make this decision on her own.

* * *

_I just proposed. I. Just. Proposed._ This was the thought running through Logan's head as he stood there, smiling with the thought of what he had done, but fretting that perhaps the intended result would not come to fruition. Rory's hair blew in the mild breeze. She looked so beautiful in the fading light of a summer day. Tomorrow she would be graduating from college, and starting her life. Logan hoped she'd be starting it with him as well.

* * *

Rory's arms were crossed, but not in anger. She saw Logan standing in front of her, smiling in anticipation of her answer.

She took a deep breath. "Logan…"

He immediately started talking, grasping for a foothold on the ledge he felt he was about to slip off of. "Ace, _please_ don't say no. Just think about it. You and me, married, our own place, our own lives. You writing for a top newspaper, I'd be running a newspaper of my own. We'd make a great team. And… I love you," he said this with a certain note of desperation, with the naïve idea that this simple fact was enough.

Logan was a changed man because of Rory. He had never met a girl who was so much his equal as well as his opposite. He knew Rory was special, and that they were meant to be together. She was his rock, his partner, no matter what.

Rory started pacing back and forth, rubbing her head. "Logan, you had to do this here? In front of everyone! My grandparents, half of Hartford! You of all people should know the ramifications of this! If I say no, my grandparents will hold it against me, like they did with my mom for not marrying my father. If I say yes, there will be thirty different china pattern combinations on my grandmother's dining room table in half an hour, and she will expect you and I to have one picked out before the night is through. They know you come from a 'good family,' Logan, we're basically playing into the palms of their hands!" Rory sat on the low garden wall to catch her breath.

Logan waited a second before quietly sitting down next to her. "I'm sorry, okay? Perhaps the public proposal was a bit over the top. But it shouldn't matter, Ace. If you love me, you'll say yes." He was beginning to get annoyed. Why did she think she could leave him hanging like this?

"I… don't know Logan. This is all so sudden—"

"Sudden! Rory, that's how these things go. Proposals are supposed to be a surprise, out of the blue, unexpected. They don't drag out over a lengthy conversation about the pros and cons of the situation!" He was standing now, gesticulating widely in frustration.

"Logan, I'm graduating tomorrow. I have a lot on my mind and I don't want to fight with you. I love you, and my inability to answer your question right at this moment should not reflect just how much. Can we just go back in there, and tell everyone that we're thinking about it? I promise, I'll have an answer right after the ceremony. I just…don't want to argue tonight and I have to sort this through."

The fire was leaving Logan's eyes. In his desperation to hear her say yes, he had hardly remembered everything she was thinking about. He loved how she could rationalize in any situation. He was still a little put off that she wouldn't answer him here and now. After a few seconds of tense silence, Logan said, "Okay. Fine. That's…fine…we'll just say we're 'thinking about it.'" He was quiet, reserved, which worried Rory. But she was hopeful in his willingness to wait for her for a little while longer. He took Rory's arm and braced himself for the barraging of questions.

* * *

The two tentatively slipped back inside, each looking at the other, their brief fight momentarily forgotten as they prepared for what they were about to face. But hardly an attendee looked their way when they rejoined the party. The music and din of the celebration had resumed, but Rory only received questioning glances from her grandmother and mother. Richard had resumed his business talk, confident that Emily would fill him in on the details later. Emily must have posed quite a threat to anyone who dared harass her granddaughter, who was obviously struggling with what was, to Emily, an obvious answer to a question. As Rory met Lorelai's gaze from across the room, Lorelai shifted her eyeballs in the direction of the quiet dining room, silently asking Rory if she wanted privacy for the impending discussion. Rory shook her head slightly, preferring to discuss this with her mother at home.

_Logan just proposed. He. Just. Proposed._ This was the thought running through Emily's head as she waited like a hawk to hear about what had gone on outside, but when she saw Rory shake her head at her mother, Emily knew she'd be the last to know anything. While she wasn't thrilled with the idea of being denied information, she wasn't about to make a scene. She was satisfied with the fact that Rory and Logan didn't seem at odds or overly joyous. They weren't making a big deal out of anything, and this quelled Emily's curiosity for now.

The rest of the party passed uneventfully, with the occasional prodding from a guest about what had transpired outside. Rory and Logan, who had remained close throughout the rest of the night for fear of being shanghaied if left alone, politely deflected any questions. Each time Rory gave the brush off, Logan's heart sank further into his chest, drowning in hurt.

* * *

Finally, Rory and Lorelai were alone, having left Christopher, Logan, and the Gilmore residence only minutes before. The silence was uncomfortable in the Jeep, but Lorelai respected that Rory needed time to process. Finally, the tension was unbearable, especially for the chatty Lorelai.

"So, I don't see a ring," Lorelai said.

Rory quickly snapped out of her reverie, and stroked her naked finger on her left hand, as if noticing she had lost a ring she had not actually received. "Nope," she mumbled, leaning her head against the window.

After more silence, Lorelai spoke again. "You two seemed awfully close for having rejected him," she said, wanting more information.

"I didn't reject him. I told him I'd think about it and let him know after graduation tomorrow." At this, Lorelai looked over at her daughter, sunken against the window, obviously deep in internal conflict. Lorelai pulled the Jeep over on the empty Hartford road.

Suddenly noticing they had stopped moving, Rory sat up straight.

"What are you doing?" she said with agitation. Too many movies with creepy ax murderers had sent a stream of scenarios through her mind as to how this night could end.

Lorelai was rummaging in her bag. She procured a small travel notebook and a promotional pen from the Dragonfly Inn. She handed these items to Rory, who accepted them with a questioning look.

Lorelai sat back in her seat and looked out her own window and examined her nail beds. She turned back to Rory after a few seconds, who was still wearing a confused look. "Go ahead," said Lorelai.

Another confused scowl.

"Okay, I'll start you off." Lorelai took back the pen and notebook, opened to a fresh page and made a quick T-chart. On the left, she wrote "pros" and on the right, she wrote "cons." She gave it back to Rory.

When Rory saw "pros" and "cons" written on the top of the page, she inwardly sighed. "Why now, mom?" she asked.

Lorelai turned to face her. "Because I know that you won't be able to focus on anything but this really big decision until tomorrow. I agree, the timing sucked. But he proposed and he deserves an answer that is well thought out. You shouldn't have this weighing on you while you should be focusing on your college graduation. You only graduate once, albeit usually without a marriage proposal hanging in the balance. But as it is, you have one, and I know you. You are practically begging to get this off your chest."

Her mother always knew what she needed to feel better. Rory set to the task as Lorelai looked out her window.

"'_Pros' _she thought_. "I love him. He's smart, talented, ambitious. I know he'll always provide for me, even if that means having to work for Mitchum Huntzberger. He'd go to the ends of the earth for me. Hell, he already did, nearly killing himself in Costa Rica. He has a life plan. He's taken my life into account. 'Cons.' Well, he'll always have an affiliation with Mitchum Huntzberger. What does that mean for my career? Will I ever be recognized for my talent, or will I always be the wife of Logan Huntzberger, the son of the newspaper tycoon? If he could hardly wait for me to answer his proposal, what does that mean about the wedding? Kids? What if he won't let me establish myself as a writer as Rory Gilmore before we really settle down? Do his grandiose plans take that into account? What about traveling? I want to be an international correspondent. Will he come with me at a moment's notice?_

Rory examined the list before alerting her mother that she was done. She felt she knew the answer already, but she'd let her mother provide an outside perspective. Rory tapped Lorelai's shoulder.

Lorelai read the list, nodded slightly, folded it, and put it in her purse. She looked at her daughter, knowing the decision she had made based on her transcript. She smiled, happy that her daughter would not have this brick on her shoulders while graduating.

Rory knew what she would tell Logan tomorrow. She just had one question: "Mom, are you okay with what I've decided?"

"I'm happy if you're happy. That's all I care about. I trust you. You've always made smart decisions, for the most part. I will always love you and respect any decision you make."

Rory smiled. All she needed was closure from her mom. Lorelai was her mother, but also her closest friend. She had to know if she would be in accordance with what Rory would be telling Logan tomorrow. She knew that her mother's experiences with Logan had not been all good or all bad. Regardless, Lorelai was on her side, and that's all Rory wanted.

* * *

Lorelai walked onto the grassy lawn at Yale University. Christopher emerged from the parking lot, just in front of Richard and Emily. They all looked a tad uncomfortable, no doubt the events from the previous evening weighing on their minds. As they neared, Lorelai could see they were somewhat expectant, hoping Lorelai could shed some light on the situation. Lorelai did not bring it up, preferring they find out when Logan did.

The Gilmores and Christopher went to find their seats, but Lorelai hung back to scour the parking lot. She saw Sookie and Jackson, children free. She gave them a wave and pointed them towards their seats. But Lorelai was looking for someone else. She had invited Luke. After all, he had been there for Rory since she was a kid, and he saw her graduate high school. It was only fair he got to see this, too. Plus, it was important to Rory. And to Lorelai. Especially Lorelai.

Just as she was about to give up and join her family, she saw the infamous green pick-up truck; the same truck that had carted Rory's belongings to and from Yale when she was a freshman. Luke had even grudgingly toted the mattress for all the trips before finally helping to dispose of it. Lorelai waited for him to exit the truck. When he did, his hair was slicked back, sans baseball cap. He was wearing one of his few suits—a stone gray color with a pale pink, almost white, collared button-down peeking out from the lapels. His shoes had been newly shined, she noted, as he approached her.

"Thanks for coming, Luke. Rory will be so happy." _And I'm kind of happy, too._

"Yep, no problem. Anything for Rory," he said. _Anything for you._

They walked silently to the aisle seats Lorelai had arrived early for. As she settled in, she saw the spiked blonde hair of Logan Huntzberger, sitting two rows in front of the group, chatting amicably with friends. She sighed, knowing that he was putting on a brave face, even though he was hurting inside. Lorelai hoped that he would be able to keep it together after the ceremony.

Rory's fan club, sitting in the third row, watched patiently as the first six letters of the alphabet made their way across the stage. They knew when Paris was called that Rory was next. They all sat a little taller. Lorelai saw Logan, who had been whispering to friends, stop talking and look up expectantly.

"Lorelai Leigh Gilmore." They had used her real name, which brought tears to the eyes of all the Gilmores and Christopher. Sookie was a mess, and Jackson was thankfully tearless so she could be comforted. Lorelai looked over and saw a somewhat melted version of Luke. She knew his body language was how he communicated his emotions and it touched her heart that Rory meant so much to him.

Rory walked proudly across the stage, accepted her diploma with a firm handshake, and scoured the crowd for her family. She gave them a thumbs-up, and then she saw Logan. She had almost forgotten about what she had to tell him.

* * *

When the graduation was over, Lorelai went to find Rory. She eyed Logan, who seemed to hang back, waiting for the right time. She found Rory near the parking lot. They embraced as Lorelai dried more tears. "I'm so proud of you hon," Lorelai said.

"Thanks mom. For everything."

Lorelai knew she was referring to how she had raised Rory from the tender age of sixteen, supported her in every way possible, and surrounded her with good people. Lorelai sniffed back more tears at this statement. She took Rory by the shoulders. "Okay. Your grandparents, Sookie, Jackson, Dad, Luke, and I are heading back to Stars Hollow. Luke's making lunch. You'll meet us there?"

"Yeah. Is dad okay with Luke being here?" asked Rory.

Lorelai shrugged. "It's not like we're dating. We're friends. And Luke is a part of our lives. Your dad and I are just friends, too. There shouldn't be any hard feelings, and your dad wouldn't make it obvious. Today is your day."

"Okay," Rory said uneasily, seeing Logan lingering under a tree, waiting for Lorelai to leave.

Lorelai noticed him as well and looked back to Rory. "Just do it babe."

Rory gave her mom a final hug and watched her walk a ways to the car before meeting Logan. She finally walked towards him, and he met her half way. "So how does it feel, Ace? You're a college grad now," Logan said, trying to break into this.

"It feels...weird," said Rory, wanting to get to the heart of the discussion.

"Yeah. So…shall we?" asked Logan who was gesturing towards a bench that was away from the busy graduation site. Rory nodded and followed him.

When they were comfortably seated, Logan waited for Rory to say her piece. "Logan, I've given this a lot of thought."

"Did you make a pro/con list?" he said with a smirk.

"How did you—"

"Ace, just because we may or may not be getting married, it doesn't mean I know or love you any less. And trust me, I know you."

Rory's expression softened. She could tell he was doing some final convincing before the verdict. "Logan, before I tell you what I decided I want to really _talk_ to you."

"I'm all ears," he said.

"Good. Logan, I love you and I know you love me, too. You somehow won over my mom, despite the history with her, and my grandparents wouldn't mind the joining of the Gilmores and Huntzbergers. My dad thinks you're a respectable guy, and Luke has given you a grudging seal of approval. You've covered my family. My friends like you because you also managed to weasel your way into my heart, and get me to do other things besides study and read. So when I tell you my decision, it is mine and mine alone, disregarding any consideration for how this affects those closest to us, because I know what they all think and want my answer to be."

_ "She said 'us.' I like the sound of that," _thought Logan.

"You do know that I don't have a great track record with your family. They won't support this, other than the societal benefit of the joining of our last names, and that would be a major strain on our marriage. But I love your sister."

Logan had to laugh. That was his Ace.

"But we're so young, Logan. I appreciate how ready you are for this. A house, a job, a life. But there is so much to see out there. How do I know you'll up and follow me as an international correspondent? You're always going to have some affiliation with your dad and I don't know how that works for my career."

Logan put up his hand. "Ace, if I may…"

She nodded, tired of talking.

"First off, I love you, too. I love that you took so much time and really thought about this. It's not what most girls would have done. But then again, you're not most girls, and that is why I asked you to marry me. You're there when I want to go out on a whim, or when I am dragged off to another country for business. I'm willing to deal with all of it; the societal pretenses, the business dinners, the 'up and going' when you say the word. I just want you. I need you."

Rory was on the verge of tears.

"I want to see the world, too. We don't have to settle down just yet. The only thing I want settled is whether or not I will have you in my life forever, as a guarantee." Logan was on his knees again, a repeat of last night. "Ace, I'm begging you."

Rory had said what she wanted to say. She could see her and Logan were on the same page about the future, and she had known since the pro/con car ride what her answer would be. She just needed to lay it down for Logan.

Finally, she said, "Why are you begging me, Logan? My answer is yes, no convincing needed."

His mouth remained slightly parted. He froze on his knees, already in a perfect position to do what he had wanted to do last night. "What?" he said in disbelief.

Rory shook her head and laughed. "I said YES!"

Logan fumbled in his pocket, where the velvet box was waiting anxiously to know its fate. He brought it out, and Rory held her breath. As he opened it, he said, "Rory Gilmore, will you marry me?" Even though she had already said yes, he wanted it to be done right.

"Yes," she gasped quietly, as she saw the ring. It was a perfectly thin silver band, with two smaller diamonds flanking a larger one in the center. It was simple and elegant and perfect. He slid it on her finger and then gently got off the ground. He sat on the bench, still holding her glistening hand and he leaned in slowly. Their kiss solidified a beautiful moment in the course of their lives.

* * *

Logan and Rory drove to Stars Hollow, all smiles. They entered Luke's nonchalantly, Rory holding her hand behind Logan's back so as not to ruin the surprise. Rory only shared a knowing glance with her mother, who suppressed a smile.

Luke was in the back cooking, so it was Christopher, Lorelai, and the Gilmores drinking coffee and waiting to hear about the budding young couple. Logan and Rory sat down, entering the awkward silence. Logan and Rory shared a look.

"Okay, we know you all want to hear about my answer," said Rory. They all looked at her and feigned innocence, saying they had no idea what she was talking about. Logan and Rory rolled their eyes.

"She said yes," said Logan. Everyone looked up from their coffees, just as Luke was bringing out the plates. With all eyes on her, Rory slowly brought her hand out from the safety of Logan's cover and held it out for them all to see the ring.

Emily was the first to speak. "Oh my god, this is wonderful! Richard, isn't it wonderful?" she said, ecstatic. Richard agreed with his wife, with a mere fraction of the pomp, although he was quite happy. Lorelai smiled and eyed Christopher who was surprised, but allowed Logan to shake his hand. Luke looked equally as stunned, the first piece of common ground he had ever found with Christopher. He shook Logan's hand as well.

Of course, when Rory allowed her grandmother to scrutinize the ring, who should walk by the diner but none other than Miss Patty. She stopped in her tracks, her presence unbeknownst to the jubilant crowd. She looked from their happy faces to Rory's hand and then to the "dashing" young man standing next to Rory. She put it all together, and ran towards Babette's house as fast as she could.

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys. So this is a fanfic I have been working on for 4 years now. I have about half of it written, but only just decided to upload the first few chapters. It seems like an idea that has been done before, another Rogan, but the family dynamics and circumstances to come are completely unique, and a good read, I think, if you're willing to give it a chance. Please, please review. I'd love to know what avid fans think. Thanks!**


	2. Heart Strings and Purse Strings

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

Luke closed up the diner and retired to his upstairs apartment. He was thinking about all that had happened between him and Lorelai. He knew they were just friends right now, especially since Christopher had an undetermined spot in the picture. But he didn't know how much longer he could go on just being Lorelai's friend. And he was hopeful in Lorelai's invitation to Rory's graduation. He had screwed up in the past, when he hadn't shared the news of his daughter April with Lorelai. And then he screwed up again when he couldn't commit to marrying her. Those were the two biggest mistakes of his life, and if he had to spend what was left of it making it up to Lorelai, he would.

* * *

Richard and Emily made their way home along the silent Hartford road, similar to the one on which Rory had made her crucial decision. Emily was, of course, still smiling, and Richard was in his usually reserved mood. Emily failed to notice that her husband was grappling with some internal conflict. When they arrived home, Emily went straight to bed, claiming she had much to plan in the morning, and in the weeks to come. Richard went to his study.

He sighed as he sat down at his desk. He took off his glasses, and rubbed his hair with his head in his hands. His tie was undone, and hung limply around his neck. He was mulling over several things, chief among them the bit of news he received yesterday. A stockbroker friend of his had informed Richard that one of the largest corporations in the country was about to go bankrupt. Richard hadn't thought much of it, beyond those insurance clients of his that would be affected by the stock loss. But since hearing of his granddaughter's engagement to Logan Huntzberger, the news began to bother him. He made a note to call Mitchum in the morning.

* * *

Christopher had flown in from Boston to be at Rory's graduation and was staying at the Crap Shack that night. Lorelai had tried to set him up with blankets on the couch, but he insisted that he do it—after all, he was the guest. Rory was exhausted so she had already gone to bed, since she had an all day appointment with her grandmother and Logan the next day. Logan had gone back to their apartment, and was picking her up in the morning.

Christopher and Lorelai sat on the made-up sofa drinking coffee and watching a sappy Lifetime movie. Neither paid much attention to it, their minds full of more important things. When the credits were rolling, Chris deftly turned it off. Lorelai was uncomfortable in the silence, wanting to talk, but not knowing if Chris had turned off the TV in hopes of getting to sleep. She made a move to clear the mugs, but Chris stopped her. "Lor, wait a minute."

He smiled while laughing, grabbing Lorelai's arm to get her to sit back down. She fell back on the couch and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind. I figured a good night's sleep would help."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Chris said, laughing as he said it.

Silence ensued which was broken when Lorelai and Chris looked at each other simultaneously, and Chris said, "Our little girl is getting _married_."

"Yep," said Lorelai quietly. They both let out their breath.

* * *

Logan picked Rory up at eight o' clock sharp, since Emily's tight ship called for a nine thirty meeting, and the new couple wanted to get breakfast on the way together. Chris had to make some business calls in the morning, and he and Lorelai were going out later that evening. So Lorelai had her morning free. She wanted to go see Luke.

As soon as Lorelai stepped out onto her porch, Babette was running up her front path. Lorelai did not think that the news of Rory's engagement could have traveled _that_ fast.

"Mornin' suga," Babette rasped.

"Morning Babette," said Lorelai, nonchalantly.

She started to move towards her car, but Babette moved with her. "When were you gonna tell us that Rory got engaged? And to a real hunk too, so I hear."

Lorelai stopped with her hand on the door to her Jeep. "Babette! Rory just got engaged yesterday! We were giving it twenty-four hours to let it sink in! And she just graduated. We wouldn't want to overwhelm her. You know how this town gets!"

"Well that's another thing! No one got invited to the graduation neither. A girl'd think you were trying to push the town away!" said Babette, arms crossed in a huff.

"Babette, you know Rory and I love this town! Just let her tell you in her own time about the engagement."

"Alright suga, but I'm tellin' ya—this town won't wait for long. Soon they're gonna go berserk!"

"Bye Babette," Lorelai said through the open window. She had managed to get in her car and start the engine, miraculously. She pulled away as she saw a depressed Babette go inside and make a phone call, gesticulating widely as she did so.

When Lorelai arrived at Luke's, the place was filled with the usual Sunday crowd, only it looked as if it had multiplied. Luke had a stack of pancakes in one hand, and an omelet and toast in another. His order pad protruded from his back pocket, and his pencil was precariously poised behind his ear.

He swooped up to the table, and slid the plates onto it before hurrying to another to take its order. The bells rang, announcing Lorelai's presence. Luke looked up and gave her a nod of acknowledgement while gesturing to the counter—the only place available for her to sit. Caesar had poured Lorelai a cup and a half of coffee before Luke came over to take her order.

"What'll it be today?" Luke said, ready to take her usually unhealthy order.

"Actually, I was hoping we could talk…upstairs for a second."

Luke paused for a moment, before shouting to Caesar that he was taking a break. Lane came out of the stock room to cover the crowd in Luke's absence.

Upstairs, Lorelai pretended to look around the apartment. Luke had to run back downstairs to extinguish a small stove fire. He came back up, wiping his hands with a cloth. "What's up?" he said.

"Can we sit?"

Luke never liked sitting, especially when he felt he was about to have a serious talk about something. "Sure," he said, needing to get back to the diner.

When they were seated, Lorelai said, "So."

"So… Rory's getting married," said Luke, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Yeah I know," she said, getting quiet.

"Are you okay? With the engagement I mean. Or in general…" He was rambling and getting flustered. No matter what he did, he couldn't keep it together in front of Lorelai. He was desperately trying to do and say the right things to get her back.

"Yes, Luke, I'm fine." After a moment of silence, she added, "Are you?"

"What? Yeah, yeah I'm fine…" he said, flustered by the question.

"Oh," she said, disappointed.

"Are you upset that Rory getting married doesn't bother me?" he asked, confused with her reaction.

"No, that's not it. It's just… I was hoping that maybe you weren't okay because… maybe you still loved me. Our relationship never had a fair chance, Luke, I mean when everything happened with April, it rattled us both and that's a lot of stress for two people to endure while trying to figure out how to be together. Maybe we could try it again, the right way this time, full disclosure and all that stuff."

Luke was shocked. Lorelai still loved him. And she wanted to know if he loved her too.

"Lorelai…" he said in a soft voice. He was at a loss for words, but overjoyed. Several seconds went by where he didn't speak. In his desperation to do and say everything perfectly, to be the guy she so deserved, some strange paralysis overtook his vocal chords, making it impossible for him to adequately express himself.

However she took his shock and hesitance as a negative sign. The hope in Lorelai's eyes darkened and turned to a glistening sheen, coating with tears. "Oh, um I guess not… I'm sorry for taking you away from the diner… I'll just be going." Lorelai left quickly, at the same speed with which her cheeks were filling with blush and eyes filling with tears, feeling stupid for bringing it up. She wanted to cry. Not only did Luke not know what to say to her confession, she may have just ruined what friendship they did have.

Luke was still in shock. Somehow, he had managed to win back and then lose Lorelai Gilmore in a matter of thirty seconds. He had screwed up. Again.

* * *

Rory and Logan were still lost in their pre-marital bliss as they dined at a local café on the way to Hartford. After a romantic meal, Rory got down to business with Logan.

"Okay. My grandparents' house is fifteen minutes away. I warn you, as soon as you step in there you are committing yourself to an _entire_ day of Emily Gilmore. In fact, fabric and china, cake samples, and color patterns will probably attack you, in true Beauty and the Beast fashion. There will be no resting, and she will try and get you to agree to _everything_ she says. Don't give in—"

Logan silenced her with a kiss. "Ace, I'll be fine. I'll keep quiet, let you do all the talking and we'll get in, get out and then we can have the day to ourselves."

"But…you…won't have any…input…on the wedding," she said in between kisses.

Logan sighed and shook his head, only wanting to kiss his fiancée. "Fine. I'll comment as needed."

"Thank you," she said after giving him a final kiss. "Now we're going to be late and trust me, you don't want to deal with _that_ wrath." Logan smiled as they got back in the car.

"Rory, Logan, I'm glad you're here!"

"Were you expecting someone else, grandma?"

"Well I have a caterer and seamstress on the way…" started Emily, who walked into the dining room mumbling to herself about the many things she had planned. Logan and Rory exchanged glances and braced themselves for a _long_ day.

Emily was perusing a binder filled with sample invitations. Rory peered over her arm, only slightly interested. Her grandmother flipped the page, and Rory's breath caught in her throat. She knew this was what she wanted.

All day she had been fighting her grandmother, wanting to simplify the whole event. It was enough that Rory had consented to let Emily plan her wedding, and that she let her get started immediately. Rory knew the longer she waited the more grief she would get from both their families. So she hadn't been warring with her grandmother, only insisting on certain things. Emily hadn't said much for the invitation portion of the day, her way of backing off. But Rory, despite her best efforts, was actually starting to enjoy the process. It was her and Logan's day, and it could be exactly how she wanted. Rory touched Logan's arm to get his attention. He looked at the invitation and smiled, because Rory was really happy, and he had to admit that it was perfect. Emily cracked a smile as well, realizing that the three of them had actually agreed on something.

"Well that wasn't so painful. I'll call the company right away. Logan, how many will I need to order for your side of the family?"

Logan and Rory looked at each other and then deadpanned. Logan hadn't told his family about the engagement yet. He recovered gracefully, not wanting to let on to Emily. "Um I'll have to get back to you with an official number. Honor is finalizing the guest list. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Alright I suppose it can wait. But no longer. I want these invitations in the mail in a month's time."

The rest of the day went only slightly better. Both Rory and Logan had the dreaded task of informing the Huntzbergers of their news weighing on their minds. Emily had finally dismissed them, and Logan went to wait in the car, as Rory was just finishing up some final details with her grandmother. She was in the foyer, about to leave when Emily stopped her. "Rory, I just wanted to thank you."

"For what grandma? I'm letting you plan my wedding. I should be thanking you."

"Yes, well I can't even begin to express what a joy it is for me. I…I never got that chance with your mother."

Rory's eyes softened. She didn't want to get emotional, but she knew the circumstances under which her mother was supposed to have gotten married. She made a light joke of it. "Well I wouldn't get too excited. She's going to have a lot to say about the choices we've made, so you two can hash those out together."

Emily smiled slightly and then said goodbye, informing Rory that they would have a Friday night dinner next week to celebrate.

* * *

In the car, Logan looked at Rory as they were driving towards Stars Hollow. "Ace, I think we have to tell my parents. Tonight."

"TONIGHT? Why?"

"Because I have to call your grandmother tomorrow with a guest list. And I'd prefer to get this out of the way."

"Okay, fine," she said, crossing her arms and sinking lower in her seat. She had hoped they would hang out together, just the two of them. At the rate they were going with demands on their time, that didn't seem like a possibility until after the wedding.

"Good. I already called them. We're going over there for dinner at six o' clock. I promise I'll make it quick. No drinks, and no dessert."

"Great I can't _wait._"

Logan chuckled and they decided to go back to their apartment to freshen up before their _exciting _evening.

* * *

The day had seemed to get away from Richard. He had been banished from his house because of all the wedding preparations going on there. He went to play golf and wound up having a large business meeting at the club. It was five thirty by the time he arrived home, and much to his relief, the wedding preparations had ceased to exist in his living room. For now. He had an hour and a half before dinner with Emily, so he resolved to get a little more work done. He went into his study, and remembered he had to call Mitchum Huntzberger.

"Hello this is Richard Gilmore calling for Mitchum. Is he at home?"

The maid put him on hold so Mitchum could pick him up in his office. "Mitchum Huntzberger," he said dryly.

"Mitchum, this is Richard Gilmore. I have a bit of business I'd like to discuss."

"Go on then."

"Right. I don't mean to be forward or prying, but the other day, a friend of mine, a stockbroker, gave me a piece of very stunning, very worrisome news."

"And that news would be…"

"He said that Huntzberger Publishing Groups was about to go bankrupt."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. And then he exploded. "Who do you think you are? You call me up to tell me you've been poking around in my business and to inform me that my company is about to go bankrupt? I certainly have no reason to confirm or deny your question, and you have no business meddling in it!"

"Pardon me, but I think I have every right to be concerned. And frankly, so should you."

"Why is that Mr. Gilmore?" The doorbell rang in the Huntzberger household, signaling the arrival of Logan and Rory.

"My granddaughter is about to marry your son. I could not give them my full blessing if I knew she'd be marrying into a life of financial hardship."

Mitchum couldn't speak. He had known his company was in trouble. But he hadn't known that Logan was getting married, and at the present he didn't feel like talking about it with Richard Gilmore. "Good bye Richard," he said weakly, feeling somewhat taken by surprise. He hung up, leaving Richard with a dial tone.

Mitchum left his study, and arrived in the foyer just as the maid opened the door. Mitchum nor Shira could fathom why Logan had suddenly wanted to have dinner. He had mentioned he was bringing Rory, and when Logan saw his father's face, weary and angry, his eyes assumed a steeled expression. He knew it was going to be a trying evening.

* * *

At Logan's insistence, they did not have pre-prandial drinks. They sat down to dinner, and Josh and Honor joined them ten minutes later.

Honor was her usual bubbly self, just happy to see Logan, even though she had to share the evening with her parents.

"So, Logan. To what do we owe this lovely dinner?" asked Honor innocently.

He cleared his throat as he finished chewing. Rory gave him a sidelong glance as he put his cutlery down. "Well actually, Rory and I have something we want to tell you." Everyone stopped eating. Logan looked suddenly uncomfortable with the attention. Rory came to his rescue. "Yesterday, after my graduation, Logan asked me to marry him. And I said yes," she added, holding her hand out to prove the existence of the engagement ring. Honor suddenly looked sorry for asking, as Josh put his head in his hands, knowing what was coming.

Shira was shocked to say the least. Logan could tell she had an artillery of protest on the tip of her tongue. Mitchum had bigger things weighing on his mind, so he was not as surprised as his wife thought he would have been. But then again he had already found out. Logan recovered just before his mother could say anything. "I know this will be incredibly hard for this family to fathom, but I didn't bring my fiancée, nor myself, here to be ridiculed. I thought that maybe, just once, you'd all be able to be happy and accept one decision that I made on my own. I know I've messed up in the past. But this is different. Rory is not a mistake. My life with her will never be something I regret. Now if anyone has anything to say, say it."

That had dissolved the words Shira had wanted to speak, but she could not refrain from uttering others. "Logan, if this is how you want to ruin your life, go ahead. But you won't be welcome to do so in my presence." Logan gave his mother a hard glare. He abruptly grabbed Rory's hand, and got up from the table, brusquely mentioning to Honor that he'd call her tomorrow.

Logan had retrieved their jackets and was walking to his car where Rory was already waiting when Mitchum stopped him.

"Logan, wait." Logan stopped, his back to the door of the house.

"Your mother was a bit harsh. I don't want you to leave with the notion that I share her sentiments."

"Oh and I'm supposed to believe that your silence at the dinner table was your own way of support? You didn't say anything, and frankly considering your track record with approval of my decisions, I have no reason to think that now, all of a sudden, you're on my side."

"Well I wish you would," Mitchum said quietly. Logan turned to face his father. "I wish you'd believe that I'm on your side. Because in the next few months, I'm going to have to be."

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, Dad."

"Huntzberger Publishing Groups is no longer financially sound. I will have no fortune to bestow upon you or your sister. I will be unemployed and your mother will probably divorce me, whittling away more of your inheritance. I will have no other options, other than to be on your side. You went out on your own Logan. You started your own company, independent of the Huntzberger Empire. I hated you for it, but now I see your wisdom in it. I know it was because you wanted nothing to do with me, but son, it was the smartest move you ever made. And for all the times you screwed up in the past, what I've done is far worse and I don't think I'll ever be able to pay you back for the criticism I gave you. But I hope that giving you my blessing with your impending marriage is a start."

Logan couldn't believe his ears. His father was going to need _his_ help. He _approved_ of Rory. Yet somewhere deep down, that didn't change a thing. His father had always been a shrewd man, and this situation may have been no different.

"Look, Dad. I hope you're not in as much trouble as you say you are. But I can't just erase twenty-three years of history between us because you all of a sudden need my help. You haven't earned my respect or trust, and I don't want to get involved with your business. I've worked very hard to keep my professional life away from my personal life, and finally everything is going right. Thank you for your blessing, but I didn't come here for it. Now if you'll excuse us, Rory and I are tired and we just want to go home."

Mitchum looked shocked. His words had been genuine and he hadn't expected that response from his son. He understood, however, given how the Huntzbergers had treated Logan and Rory in the past. He went inside slowly, leaving Logan with a few last words.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, son. I hope in time you'll be able to forgive me." He was solemn, a new mood he had been feeling a lot of lately as his business issues had put his life into perspective for him. He now had to figure out how he was going to tell his wife about the company. Logan stared at the door his father had just closed for a second longer, before ripping open the door to the car and throwing himself inside.

He put his head back on the headrest.

"What was that all about?" asked Rory.

"I'll tell you later," said Logan, turning on the engine and zooming away.


	3. Through Thick and Thin

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

Chris was going back to Boston in the morning, so he had asked Lorelai if they could have an evening to their selves. Lorelai did not object. Her and Chris had a long history. He was the father of her daughter, and they maintained a friendship.

They walked into an upscale bistro in Hartford and sat in the dark, candle-lit room at a corner table. They engaged in amicable conversation, but Chris got more serious over wine and dessert.

"Lor, I don't want to go back to Boston."

"What?" Lorelai said, thinking he was being funny.

"I'm serious. I want to stay here with you and Rory."

"Well Rory's not going to be living at home anymore. It would just be…" She was going to say "you and me," but the realization of Christopher's implications hit her. He smiled when he knew she had understood his intentions.

"Come on Chris. This is the same old routine."

"What routine?" he said loudly and defensively.

"You come here for a few days, you're comfortable being a part of our lives for however brief a time, and then you get it back in your head that it could be like this forever."

"Well couldn't it?" he asked.

"No, Chris, it can't. You and me are never going to work. We didn't work when I got pregnant twenty-two years ago, we didn't work when we eloped in Paris, and I don't foresee us ever working in any other circumstance."

"Why not Lor? I was ready to marry you twenty-two years ago. It wasn't because I had a responsibility to fulfill. It was because I loved you. I was committed to us when we eloped. I was ready for it to work. I know it ended badly between us. But we rushed it. I think now I could handle having Luke around, as long as I have you. I loved you even when we broke it off and I still love you."

"Chris, that's just it. I'm always going to be the broken piece of the puzzle. _I'm_ not ready to commit to you. You were right. I was still in love with Luke when I was with you. I…still am." Lorelai couldn't believe she was admitting this to herself out loud, much less to Chris. She realized why it had hit Luke with such force.

"I don't care about any of that. My heart will never belong to anyone else, Lorelai. I can't help it."

"I'm sorry, Chris," she said quietly. He hung his head, the candles making flickering patterns of light appear on his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, but Lorelai beat him to it. "This doesn't change anything between us, I promise. I'm content being your friend. Rory's an adult now, and so are you. Feel free to be as involved in her life as I know you always wanted to be." Chris was at a loss. He knew this had been his last chance at landing Lorelai Gilmore. He would have to accept that they would never be more than friends.

"Well, I have an early flight tomorrow, so I guess we should go."

"I guess we should," said Lorelai, who was worried that she had unintentionally further wounded Christopher.

* * *

At six thirty a.m., Lorelai woke up when she heard the door slam. She threw on a sweatshirt as she hurried down the stairs. She caught Christopher on the porch hauling his luggage to his car.

"Hey. What are you doing?" Lorelai called out.

He slammed the trunk of the car shut before saying, "I have an early flight, remember?" With a silent groan, she did. She recalled their trip to Paris and how annoyingly early Chris had insisted they arrive at the airport.

"You don't even have time for coffee?" she asked.

"Nope," he said, starting the engine of his car. Lorelai ran off the porch and stopped him at his window.

"What is this Chris? Taking off without saying goodbye to me? To Rory? If I hadn't woken up, would I even have found a note on the kitchen counter, explaining why you up and left? Is this about last night?"

He sighed. "Lorelai, this has nothing to do with last night. I have an early flight." "Whatever Chris," she said over her shoulder. She had started back to the house. "You're doing a real fantastic job of keeping up with Rory's life. I don't care about me, but your daughter just got engaged and you don't even have the decency to say goodbye to her. Will you even come to the wedding?"

"Of course I'll be at the wedding! God, Lorelai! I left before you woke up because I can't face you anymore. I'll never be able to rid myself of this ache in my chest, so I thought it would be better if I left and called you later."

Lorelai stopped walking with her back to Chris. She was on the verge of tears. She hated that she couldn't love this incredibly sweet man. Instead, she was in love with Luke who didn't feel the same way about her. But just as Chris couldn't help being in love with Lorelai, she couldn't help loving Luke Danes. She also couldn't help being touched by Christopher's words.

Babette stuck her head out of her kitchen window. "Keep it down, you two! You're wakin' up the whole town!" Upon further inspection of the car, Babette yelled "Hey Christopher! How ya doin' suga?"

"Hi Babette," he said, giving her a slight wave.

"Good morning Babette," said Lorelai, with a sing-song emphasis on the "ette."

"Oh sorry suga. Am I interruptin' somethin'?" She closed the window, and Lorelai couldn't help but laugh at her crazy neighbor.

"I'm sorry for getting angry Chris. I just didn't want you skipping out on us. Rory really wants you to be a part of her life with Logan. I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us. I'm sorry I don't love you, but I know if you try, there is a _great_ girl out there waiting for you. Have a safe flight."

"I'll call you when I land, Lor. Give Rory a kiss for me and tell her I'll be calling her, too."

She waited until his car ceased to be visible, and then went inside to call Rory.

* * *

When Rory and Logan returned to their apartment, they immediately fell asleep, hoping to forget their night. When Rory woke up, the sheets next to her were cold and tussled, and she heard Logan making breakfast.

She snuck up behind him and gave him a kiss on his cheek. He was just flipping the pancakes to add to the table of bacon and eggs. There was already a cup of steaming coffee waiting for Rory, prepared just the way she liked it. Logan sat down and doused his pancakes in syrup. He took a sip of coffee, all while Rory stared at him.

"Something on your mind, Ace?" he asked.

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Last night, you didn't look too happy after talking with your dad." Logan raised his eyebrows as he took another bite of food.

"Yeah well we didn't exactly have the best conversation. Apparently, Huntzberger Publishing Groups isn't doing too well."

"Oh my god, Logan. What are you going to do?"

"_I'm_ not going to do anything. He said he was 'going to need my help' whatever that means, but I'm not buying it."

"Logan, he's your father."

"Since when did you become a fan of my father?" he said in surprise.

"Trust me, I'm not. But even I noticed he didn't seem like himself. He didn't even object to the news of our engagement. Maybe this time he's being sincere."

"Yeah well he _did_ say he gave us 'his blessing.'"

"See that's good news. You're really not going to help him? What sort of trouble is he in anyway?"

"I honestly have no idea. I'll have to think about it Rory. I'm really happy with where my company is, and throwing my dad into the mix could be disastrous. I just need to sit on it for a few days."

"Okay, I respect your decision not to help him. There's just one thing." He looked at her expectantly. "Do you want your parents at the wedding?" He was silent for a moment. His mother was completely against the idea. Apparently Gilmore blood was not as good as Huntzberger blood.

"I'd like to invite them. There's no guarantee that my mother will show, but if my dad is being sincere, he will."

"Ok, I'll go call Honor."

"Honor? Why?"

"My grandmother will be calling here in a few hours, wanting you to fax her a copy of your guest list. I figured I'd get it out of the way."

"Thank you, Ace. For everything." They looked at each other romantically, and then Rory got up to clear their plates. Logan grabbed her arm, and pulled her in for a kiss.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too." Rory smiled and then went to make her phone call. Just as she did, the phone rang. The caller ID said her mother was calling.

"Hey mom," she answered.

"Hey hon. How are you?"

"I'm good. Are you okay? You don't sound good."

"Your dad just left."

"Are we supposed to be sad?" she asked.

"No, but I caught him leaving before saying goodbye."

"Oh," said Rory. "What happened?"

"Well last night he told me he still thinks we could work. This comes after I went to Luke and asked him if he still loved me."

"You did WHAT?" said Rory.

"I um, went to Luke's. To his apartment actually. We made small talk, and then I sorta asked him if he still loved me."

"AND?" said Rory expectantly. She had always had a glimmer of hope that her parents would work out, but that hope had started to fade when she saw how happy her mom was with Luke. She never was like that with her dad, and Rory loved the idea of being able to call Luke her step-dad. She knew her relationship with her actual father could be whatever she made of it, so she wasn't afraid to jeopardize that by letting Luke in.

"He didn't say anything."

"Nothing? Not a word?"

"He said 'Lorelai' in a shocked tone, and then I left, because I felt so embarrassed."

"MOM! You left? You didn't even give him a chance to respond! You know Luke takes longer to process things. You have to talk to him!"

"I know, I know. Leaving was stupid. I just couldn't believe that I actually asked Luke if he still _loved_ me. I know I still have feelings for him, but what if he's moved on?"

"Mom. It's Luke. He's been stuck on you since you came into the diner, asking—no _harassing_ him for coffee. He'll never be able to get over you. And I _know_ you'll always have a thing for him."

"How can you possibly know that? For all you know, Mr. Right could be outside my window right now." Lorelai looked up from the desk where the phone was. Luke was coming up the front walk. Her mouth dropped open. "Rory, Luke is here. I have to go. I'll call you later."

"Wait—" Lorelai hung up and went to the door, just as Luke was about to knock on it.

* * *

After Mitchum's conversation with his son the night prior, he had simply gone to bed. Honor and Josh had left shortly after Rory and Logan, not wanting to get caught in the middle of a heated argument. Shira had followed her husband to bed in silence.

Shira woke up and put on her white robe with a waffle imprint. Mitchum was not in the bedroom, but his car was still in the driveway, so she reasoned that he was in his study. Shira asked the chef to prepare her usual morning cup of Earl Grey tea, a habit her son had acquired from her. She sat out on the patio in the brisk morning air. She had a lot to think about. Her son was marrying a _Gilmore_. She knew to the outside world, or to society at least, the match would be looked upon favorably. A marriage of two prominent Hartford families was considered in good taste. She also knew her son was going to continue his hostile attitude towards her until she accepted the marriage. As all of these thoughts danced through her head, Mitchum pushed open the French doors to the patio.

Shira had expected her husband to be in a suit and tie, which was the only attire she saw him in, aside from his pajamas. To her surprise, he was wearing a red silk paisley robe, with black lapels. He appeared to have just woken up.

"Hello, dear. Would you like me to have Helga prepare you some tea?" she said to him.

"No, no I'm fine." He sat down on the chaise lounge next to his wife.

"You seem unusually dressed. I thought you were in your study," she continued.

"I couldn't sleep last night so I went downstairs. I fell asleep in the den watching golf."

"I can see why. Such a horrid sport, golf. It's dreadfully boring."

"Yes well…" he said, not knowing what to say to his wife of thirty-five years. They had rarely had a conversation beyond the realm of their son's education and his latest antics. Apart from social events and minor business matters, their marriage had consisted of little else. Mitchum had never understood why marriage in their society was looked upon so favorably. It was not as if any of their friends had ever really wanted to marry their spouses, and they weren't fooling anybody. Cheating was as ubiquitous as air in the Hartford community, and you could see it on the faces of the couples you talked to at the high profile parties everyone attended.

However, it was at this juncture in Mitchum Huntzberger's life that he understood why marriage was so commonplace. He supposed in society, it was a just a way to keep "good blood" running thick. But the true purpose it served was to create a guarantee safety net. If you ever fell, your spouse would be there to catch you and set you upright again. Mitchum dreaded what he was about to tell his wife. Despite the emptiness their marriage seemed to possess, he knew there had been flickers of love and passion between Shira and himself, and he hoped she would remember those moments in the coming months.

"Shira, there's something I need to discuss with you."

"Is it our son's current engagement? We must do something—"

"No, it is not Logan's engagement. It's…a matter of business."

"Oh," she said with much less gusto.

"I don't know exactly how to say this tactfully. It seems that…it seems that Huntzberger Publishing Groups is about to go bankrupt."

Shira laughed.

"I'm sorry dear. I thought I just heard you say that Huntzberger Publishing Groups was going bankrupt."

"You heard correctly."

Shira turned her head so she was staring directly at her husband. She was shocked.

"I know this seems a bit dire, but I assure you, this will be rectified." He moved to put his hand on her shoulder. She pushed him away.

"Don't _touch_ me Mitchum! God, I can't believe this is happening!" She stood up, spilling her tea all over herself. She stormed into the house. Mitchum got up and followed her.

"So all the past thirty-five years have meant to you is a large checking account? Shira, I came to you with honest intentions hoping you'd understand!"

"Mitchum, I don't care to speak with you right now." She walked farther into the house, not knowing where she could go to get air back in her lungs. Her head was spinning, her whole world was crashing down around her, and it all had shattered within a matter of seconds. The first doors she had the strength to open were those to the greenhouse, a hot, grimy place she had set foot in only once or twice. She sunk down on one of the white wrought iron chairs and put her head in her hands, letting the tears and sobs come freely. A minute or so passed before Mitchum found her.

He whipped open the doors, having barely been able to keep up with his wife.

"Shira…" he said. He stopped in the doorway when he saw her sitting there crying. He gently went over to her and sat next to her on an identical chair.

"I just…I can't understand, Mitchum."

"What can't you understand, darling?" he asked quietly, wanting to put her at ease.

She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. Then she took a deep breath.

"All my life, since my cotillion actually, my mother trained me to be a perfect society wife. I carried out all of my duties to a T, Mitchum. Thirty-five years ago, there was no higher honor than being a perfect society wife. And then I married you, and it was so wonderful because I was finally fulfilling my role. I was doing the only thing I knew how. I was so eager for the self-satisfaction that I was sure would come with planning dinner parties and business events. But you were never there. In your world, you were supposed to go out and earn a living. That was how we were both brought up, and the dinner parties got old quickly. I never got that satisfaction. For thirty-five years, I have been unhappy, knowing I was surely worth more than the silver I put out on the lace tablecloths. But it was not my place to do anything about it. It was your role to be the breadwinner, not mine. We kept to ourselves; we did not veer from the rigid path we were set on. And now, you are no longer maintaining your role, and I don't know if I can maintain mine."

Mitchum was silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry that I let you down, Shira. I'm sorry that I can no longer give you what you want."

"What I _want!"_ she said exasperatedly. "I never wanted any of this. I don't care about any of it, Mitchum. All I've ever wanted was a content and meaningful life. For a while, these…_things_ gave that to me, but it has been some time since they have had that effect. I'm just _scared_ Mitchum. I'm scared because you and I have never lived any differently. I've never been the breadwinner. Maybe thirty-five years ago, I could have changed that, but now it's too late. I'm scared for the future now, Mitchum. I'm scared for myself. I'm scared for you."

"But you're not scared for us?"

"What?" she spat out.

"You're not scared for _us_. You're implying that you're scared for our individual lives, without each other."

"Well I don't know, Mitchum. This is what I've become. A _society_ girl. Our son is about to marry a Gilmore, and we are going to be paupers. I don't think I can associate myself with that sordidness.

Mitchum looked away and nodded his head slightly.

"Fine, Shira. I love you. I loved you when I married you thirty-five years ago, and I still love you now. For thirty-five years, I worked hard because I had to maintain the life I thought you wanted. It would have pained me too much to see you unhappy. I know it wasn't always ideal, and by the time I realized you weren't happy, I had too much weight on my shoulders to just cast off. I built an empire, and I thought you'd still be there for me when it came to an end. But if this is what you want, then so be it. For the record, I support our son and his marriage. You may not, but that boy is making a life for himself, and _he_ is going to be happy. I don't know how, but I will put myself back together again, with or without you. Goodbye Shira." Mitchum got up and went to pack a bag. He was going to have to pay a visit to his son sooner than he'd hoped.

* * *

After her mother abruptly hung up on her, Rory made a phone call to her soon to be sister-in-law.

"Honor? It's Rory."

"Rory! So nice to hear from you. Especially since we didn't get to catch up last night."

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said sheepishly.

"Oh, don't be. We all know how our parents can be. Plus, you got Josh and I out of what would have otherwise been an extremely painful evening."

"Right. Well in regard to your parents, Logan and I were talking, and he said he'd still like to invite them to our wedding. And, my grandmother needs a guest list from your side of the family ASAP. Logan said I should have you put together a list of people who need to be there."

"Ah there is an ulterior motive to this call. Of course. I'll just look through the list from my wedding and see what I come up with."

"Thanks Honor, it's such a great help. But hey, listen. We should all go out some time and really catch up. No parents involved."

"That'd be nice. I'll take you up on that."

"Okay, bye Honor."

"Bye."

The phone clicked and Rory heard a dial tone. She put the receiver back in the cradle and went to get dressed. Her and Logan were going to Stars Hollow to go over wedding plans with Lorelai.

* * *

Lorelai slowly opened the door. Luke was standing there, wearing jeans and his usual plaid and backwards cap.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he replied. "Can I…come in?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lorelai said, stepping aside to let him in.

Luke walked into the Crap Shack and stopped, turning around to face Lorelai. A tense silence ensued before either spoke.

"Lorelai,"

"Luke," they said simultaneously.

"You first," said Luke.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just sprung that on you. And it was wrong of me to expect you to be able to absorb it all in ten seconds. You can give me an answer in your own time."

"No."

"No?" she asked, stunned by his reaction.

"I'm done waiting Lorelai. I love you. I shouldn't have walked away from you when we were engaged, and I'm sorry it even took me twenty-four hours to tell you that I still love you. I'm done waiting for something to happen between us. I love you, and I always will love you."

Lorelai was crying. Her breath was caught in her throat. She had heard those words from Christopher last night. But finally, they were coming from Mr. Right.

"I love you too, Luke," she said in a pinched voice, strained with the effort of withholding her tears. Luke closed the gap between them and kissed her.

After some time of passionate embrace, minutes, possibly hours, Lorelai could hardly tell she was so utterly happy, she spoke.

"Luke," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said back, his breath tickling her ear.

"Rory and Logan will be here any minute." He laughed and taking his cue, kissed her once more and left.

"Call me when you get a minute away from the wedding madness," he said as he closed the door.

"I will," she said. Rory and Logan pulled up just as Luke was leaving. Outside, he gave Rory a hug and shook Logan's hand.

* * *

**A/N: Here's one more chapter for the weekend. I'll probably update once a week, give or take a few days, but reviews certainly increase my enthusiasm to post! I hope you're enjoying, and if so, please, please review! **


	4. The Best Laid Plans Often Go Awry

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

**A/N: Credit to Steinbeck's _Of Mice and Men _for the chapter title.**

* * *

Rory came through the door.

"So I take it that went well," said Rory. Her mom laughed and nodded her head, completely content.

"Good. Now that you're in the right mood…" Rory dropped twenty bridal magazines onto the coffee table with a thud. "We have to find a dress that I will actually wear."

"Is this all?" asked Lorelai sarcastically.

"No, Logan's bringing the rest." He walked through the door, laden with twenty more magazines.

"Hi Lorelai," he said, giving her his trademark smile.

"Logan, how are you holding up?" she said.

"It's been a rough forty-eight hours," he said, matter-of-factly.

"Will you be able to handle forty-eight years?" asked Lorelai.

"Of course," he said, leaning in to kiss Rory.

He added his load to the table. "Okay, I'll leave you ladies to wedding details. I have a few calls to make and some things to pick up."

"Okay. We'll meet you at Luke's around three," said Rory, already perusing the magazines.

* * *

Logan left the house and said a cordial hello to Lane who was coming to join Rory and Lorelai. She had both of her children with her. Logan couldn't help but think that that would be him and Rory in a few years. He smiled at the possibility.

He immediately started towards the town square, having a few of his own wedding details to attend to. First, he sat down on a park bench to make a few calls.

"Logan! How goes it with you?" asked Finn in his charming accent.

"All is well my brother," said Logan, playing along with Finn's little ruse.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your correspondence?"

"Well I was hoping I could get you and Colin to come to Connecticut."

"And what would the occasion be?"

"My wedding, of course," said Logan.

"He got her to say yes! Our Logan is getting married," said Finn into the room he was in. Logan heard a chorus of cheers. Logan could only imagine what Finn was doing at the moment. "Good for you mate. Give Rory my love and of course we'll be there. Hold on mate, Colin wants to say 'ello."

"Logan! Finn has confirmed attendance for both of us I presume?"

"Yes. He tells me both of my best men will be coming."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," said Colin.

"Great. Well I have to go. And try to make sure Finn doesn't hurt himself."

"Will do. Hey, you don't mind if Finn and I plan the bachelor party, do you?"

"Of course not. It is your right as my best men."

"Great. Bye man."

"Bye Colin."

Logan ended the call and quickly checked his e-mail. He read one of them concerning a small business matter. After reading it, Logan's mind suddenly became heavy with a mix of thoughts. He brushed them off for the time being, needing to focus on a few other things.

* * *

Logan came into Luke's after running his errands. The girls were already there, and Zach had joined them. Logan pulled out the empty chair next to Rory. He leaned in to kiss her, and whispered in her ear,

"Did you find a dress?"

"No," she laughed. "Not yet."

"Well why don't you and I go find a dress somewhere in Hartford. You know, I always had an eye for dress sizes." Rory was stunned. She remembered standing in the woods with Logan, wearing a brilliant blue dress, a dress he had picked out for her. She leaned in to kiss Logan.

"You are incredibly sweet, but I promised my mom that she could make my dress."

"Okay," he whispered, kissing her once more.

* * *

Lunch was a nice treat for everyone, until Logan's cell phone vibrated in his pocket, reminding him that he had e-mails to read. He remembered the one he had read a few hours ago and whispered to Rory,

"We need to talk."

Rory was slightly worried, but made it through the rest of a somewhat rushed lunch. She made an excuse to her mother so Logan and her could get away and have a chat.

Lorelai stood to hug her daughter. Rory said to her,

"Let me know what happens with you and Luke. I'll see you for Friday night dinner. And we'll meet up again next week to work on the wedding." Rory hugged Lane, Zach and Luke, and finally her and Logan were alone, on their way back to Hartford.

"I wished we lived closer. This one-hour trek to see my mom is not working out so well."

"Well it's funny you mention that. I got an interesting e-mail this afternoon," said Logan.

"What about?" said Rory.

"Do you remember when I went to California to stake out the company I wanted to buy?" asked Logan.

"Yeah," said Rory cautiously, not exactly liking where this was going.

"Well, they took my bid. I own it now."

"Logan that's great! Oh my god, I'm so happy for you!"

"Don't get so excited. They would want us to move there by the end of August, so I could start to transition the company by September first." Rory's face sunk.

"California…" she said.

"Yeah but it could be great. When I was there, I went to look at some houses, just in case. There's this great one for rent right on the water. It has an avocado tree in the backyard and plenty of space for Colin or Finn or your mom to come and visit. And it has three bedrooms," said Logan, trying hard to convince Rory that moving to California wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

"Well I do like guacamole," said Rory. Logan laughed.

"Listen Ace, it's not right away. We're getting married in early July, so that gives us almost two full months to slowly adjust. And you can work at the San Francisco Chronicle, and still be an overseas correspondent if you want. Plus, I'll fly you back to Stars Hollow as often as you want. I do have that power you know," said Logan.

"Right, I forgot I was marrying a rich man," said Rory, leaning in to kiss Logan.

Logan laughed and reciprocated the action.

* * *

Mitchum had left an hour ago. Shira had showered and gotten dressed as if it had been the most normal day in the world. Never mind her husband had just left her, and she was about to lose her fortune. Or his fortune. She sat down at the writing desk in the foyer, her hand hovering over the receiver of the telephone. Shira had a rather crucial call to make.

"Yes hello, this is Shira Huntzberger. Is Emily Gilmore available?" Shira said icily to the maid who answered the phone at the Gilmore residence.

"One moment please," the maid responded timidly.

"Hello Shira. Your daughter just faxed me a copy of the guest list for the wedding. Both you and your husband will be coming, yes?" asked Emily somewhat coldly.

"I'm not so sure. Emily, do you think you could meet me for lunch at the club in say, half an hour?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lunch, Emily. An afternoon meal, if you prefer."

"Yes I'm well aware of what _lunch_ is, Shira. There's no need to treat me as a child."

"Whatever. See you in half an hour Emily." She hung up, wondering what exactly she was going to say to Emily Gilmore.


	5. Blood is Thicker than Water

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

When Logan and Rory arrived back at their apartment, they found that their door was unlocked. They dropped their belongings in the hallway, and Rory quietly and cautiously followed Logan into their home. He put his finger to his lips to signal quiet as he and Rory followed the curve of the wall.

Logan whipped around the corner and yelled, "Freeze!" All he saw was his father, casually dressed, perusing the contents of their extensive DVD library.

"Shit, Dad, you scared us!"

"I apologize for doing so. Do you mind if we sit down?" asked Mitchum, gesturing to their kitchen table.

Rory went to get their things in the hallway. She dropped them on the bed and joined her fiancé and soon to be father-in-law. Logan had declined his father's invitation to sit, and was standing with his arms crossed, wishing the encounter would end quickly.

"Dad, if this is about your company, I still haven't decided if there is anything I can do, and if I even want to help."

"It's not about the company. I told you I would need your help in the coming months, but I wasn't necessarily referring to my business exclusively."

"Then why are you here?" said Logan, very frustrated. The last thing he wanted was to have a conversation with his father.

"I was hoping I could stay here for a few days. If it's okay with you as well, Rory," he added, appealing to his soon-to-be daughter-in-law, with whom his track record was not so clean.

Rory looked at Logan, whose expression wasn't changing. She looked back at Mitchum, purposely refusing to respond until Logan did.

"Stay here? Wouldn't mom worry about you?" Logan commented.

"Your mother's opinion doesn't matter to me anymore, Logan. She wanted nothing to do with me when I told her about HPG, so I left. I just need to stay here for a little while until I can get the affairs for our Hampton house in order."

Logan's gaze turned steely. "I can't BELIEVE you! My help? You said you would need my _help_, not my apartment!" Rory put her hand on Logan's arm to calm him. He ripped his arm away and started pacing, rubbing his hands through his hair.

"You LEFT her! You bastard! All that crap about 'she'll probably divorce me' was just some stupid ruse! You were planning on divorcing _her _the whole time!" he shouted.

Mitchum was off her chair in a heartbeat, the nimble wood sliding across the tiled floor with immeasurable force. "I resent that! I had no intention of ever leaving your mother! She was the only thing I had left after you and Honor, when I found out about HPG, and I'm not even sure that I have my children! She said that she didn't know how to live any other way. If I couldn't give her that life any more, than she didn't want me either," he yelled back.

Rory had to do something to break the ice. "Mitchum, could you give Logan and I a minute?"

Mitchum tore himself away from the staring contest he was having with his son and looked at Rory.

"Y—yes, of course," he said, as if first realizing he was acting uncivilly and becoming suddenly embarrassed. Mitchum walked out of the kitchen and slammed the door to their apartment. Logan sunk down on the couch. Rory sat down next to him. He put his face in his hands and let the tears come.

"They said they would be together forever," sobbed Logan.

"I know," said Rory, rubbing his back and trying to calm him down.

"Th—they stood up at an altar and told each other that they would love and take care of one another for the rest of their lives. And now, he just threw all of that away."

He picked his head up, and rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. He looked at Rory with blood shot eyes and the utmost of sincerity in his tone. "Ace, you have to promise me that no matter what happens, you will never do that to me."

"Of course, Logan," she said solemnly, her eyes softening at Logan's show of emotion.

He stood up and cleared his nose. "God this sucks!" he yelled to the air in frustration. His fist collided with the counter in the kitchen.

"I know it does, but we have to do something. He's your dad, and I for one believe him when he says he didn't want to walk out on your mom."

"You believe him? Why? He got himself into a very deep hole, and he's using us as a ladder to get himself out. He's not being sincere."

"Logan, I seem to remember a short while ago, when someone I know got himself into an equally as deep hole." She looked at Logan, who knew that it was his own business blunder to which Rory was referring.

She continued, "And he thought he had lost everything, and then proclaimed to the person that he loved that he would be okay as long as he knew that he had her."

"Okay, okay I get it. I have to help him. He can stay here for a week, tops. After that, I'll see what I can do for him financially."

Rory hugged Logan, and allowed him to freshen up while she went to find Mitchum. She opened the apartment door, to find Mitchum coming up through the stairwell, a suitcase in hand. Rory stepped aside to let him in as he approached the door.

Logan was coming out of the bathroom, wiping his hands with a towel, when he saw how quickly his father had retrieved his belongings.

"Being a tad precocious, aren't we Dad?"

"I don't think so. Despite all your past mistakes, I always took you back in. Blood is thicker than water, Logan, and I knew you would remember that."

Logan nodded curtly, thinking that it was going to be a very long week. Rory showed Mitchum the guest room. He stayed in there for quite a while.

* * *

Rory and Logan were lounging on the couch, watching a movie when the phone rang. Logan paused the movie and went to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Logan. It's your mother. I'd like to speak with your father."

"How did—"

"For God's sake Logan, I'm old, not senile. He didn't answer at any of our other residences, and so you were my last resort."

Logan motioned for Rory to get his father. He cleared his throat and spoke in a quieter tone. "Are you…okay, Mom?"

"Why? Because I married an idiot who I'm now divorcing and who is leaving me with nothing? I'm fine," she said much too loudly for, what Logan thought, was a sore subject. It was obvious she had been drinking.

Mitchum emerged from the bedroom, and elected to take his call on the balcony.

When he got on the phone, Shira slurred,

"Hello dear. I'm obligated to tell you that we have to attend Friday night dinner at the Gilmores."

"Shira, have you been drinking?"

"Yes. Why do you want to know?"

"For God's sake Shira, call Frank to give you a lift home."

Shira laughed. "Oh Mitchum. What on earth gave you the impression that you were still allowed to care about me, and that I was still obliged to listen?" Mitchum's heart sank.

"You're right. I'm…sorry. Just…take care of yourself. For Logan and Honor's sake." "Yes. Well as much as I'd like this conversation to end, there is something rather important I have to discuss with you before Friday. I'll be at the Goodwin Hotel tomorrow at 3 p.m. Please be there so I can get this over with. It shouldn't take long."

"I'll be there. Goodbye Shira." He heard a dial tone without a sned-off from his wife.

* * *

Mitchum walked into the Goodwin at 2:45, not relishing a reprimanding from his wife if he had deigned to be late. He canvassed the lobby, and sat down in a high back chair to wait for her.

She walked into the hotel fifteen minutes later, and quickly spotted Mitchum. She sat across from him on the couch in the lobby. He settled back in the chair, putting on an air of comfort, although he was anything but.

"Why was it that you called me here, dear?" he said with a slickness in his voice, in hopes of regaining some of his old composure. Shira would have none of it.

"Don't call me 'dear,'" she said contemptuously.

"Fine. Was there anything else you wanted to say to me?" he said, now put off and angry that she insisted on acting like a child when he was willing to be so mature about their whole mess.

"Yes. But not here. I'd prefer to go somewhere more secluded."

"Well I must say that given the current state of affairs, I would not be comfortable getting a room with you."

Shira gave Mitchum a dry look. She looked around the lobby once more, spotting a small library off to the right. She got up, and Mitchum reluctantly followed.

"As amused as I am with your antics, I have a business meeting in half an hour."

"This won't be a long conversation," Shira said, walking over to a bookcase and pulling out a leather-bound novel. Mitchum crossed his arms and rocked on his feet, waiting for Shira to spit out whatever was on her mind. She tossed the book on the couch and looked at Mitchum.

"I suppose there is no easy way to go about this…"

"Go about what?"

Shira sighed. "Do you remember the fuss surrounding Elwood Clements, Bonnie's husband, from the Historical Society event last December?"

"Not really, why?"

"Exactly. Bonnie caught him cheating on her. She promptly divorced him, of course, but she made sure it was kept very quiet."

Mitchum chuckled. "Are you trying to tell me that you're Elwood Clements? Frankly it's a bit late to confess you've cheated on me."

"That's not what I'm saying Mitchum! The audacity of your imagination! However, in my past, a situation very similar to the one I described was…covered up."

"Oh?" said Mitchum, intrigued.

Shira hesitated before continuing. "When I was three, I distinctly remember waking up one night to my mother crying. I walked downstairs to find her on the last step, doubled over in tears. My father was standing near her in the dark. When he tried to console her, she pulled away. I peered over the banister and hovering in the doorjamb was Sylvia Harrow."

"Who is Sylvia Harrow?" asked Mitchum, curious at this revelation of his wife's past. The name sounded oddly familiar, but did not ring any immediate bells.

"The woman with which he had an affair."

Mitchum was surprised to learn that his father-in-law had had an affair, but no more enlightened as to why this was all of a sudden important.

Shira continued. "Because Hartford was the way it was back then, my parents did not divorce. But their relationship remained strained for the remainder of their lives, particularly when less than a year later, Sylvia Harrow had a baby girl. She named her Emily. My mother assumed it was my father's illegitimate child."

Mitchum was mulling the name "Harrow" over in his head. He was sure he had heard it once in his life, possibly a very long time ago when he was first starting out in his business. Mitchum Huntzberger had been much like Logan—reluctant to join his father's business. But when he settled into it, one of the first business deals he and his father conducted together was with a man named Harold Harrow, married to Sylvia Harrow. The Harrows had been another prominent Hartford family, back when old money still carried a lot of weight in society. Then a thought came to him.

"You don't mean to tell me that your father's possible child was, no _is_ Emily…Gilmore?"

Shira nodded, tight-lipped.

"But that would mean that Logan and Rory are…"

"Related by blood," finished Shira.

Shira was quiet, remembering how painful it had been to watch the love between her mother and father deteriorate. Emily Gilmore's mother was partially to blame.

"Much to my delight, I don't believe a wedding would be appropriate under the circumstances. What are we going to do?" she asked quietly. She did not, however, relish her son's sadness that was bound to come with the news. Mitchum stood there awkwardly, watching the anguish trouble his wife's face. He finally broke and hugged her.

* * *

Emily had not mustered the courage to tell Richard what she had weighing on her mind until an hour before their guests were to arrive for Friday night dinner. She finally caught him in his study.

Richard was reading the paper at his desk. Emily came in and lightly closed the door, which roused Richard from his reading stupor. He looked up at Emily through his glasses.

"Is something the matter?" he asked her, seeing her look of worry.

"No," she said quickly. Richard shrugged and went back to reading the paper. Emily looked at him and decided to just get it over with. "Actually yes," she said.

Richard folded the paper and crossed his hands over his stomach, waiting for his wife to speak.

She didn't know quite how to begin, so she came right out with it. "I don't know who my real father is," she said.

"I beg your pardon?" said Richard, surprised, and slightly amused. "Then who was it that gave you away at our wedding?"

"Well he was married to my mother for as long as I can remember, but I don't know if I was his daughter," she said nervously.

"I see. And what gave you the impression that he was not your biological father?" asked Richard, confused and concerned for his wife.

"Shira Huntzberger contacted me, many years ago when we first moved into this house."

"I don't like the sound of this already," said Richard. He removed his glasses, polished them, and replaced them on the bridge of his nose, waiting to hear the rest of his wife's story.

"We had lunch, as friendly neighbors, I thought. But she told me that her father had had an affair many years before that moment, with my mother. When I was born less than a year after that, her mother assumed I was his. My father, or the man my mother was married to at the time, somehow forgave her for it apparently. He was always so traditional, my father. I think he preferred to just forget it happened at all and move on. Shira told me that he refused to get a paternity test, and life went on as if it had never occurred. Of course I was never made aware of it until thirty-five years ago. I didn't believe her at the time, and honestly blocked it from my memory; I was so perturbed by the idea. That is, of course, the trigger for the hostilities between us all these years."

Richard was pensive looking. "You do realize," he said cautiously, "that this means that Rory and Logan are possibly related by blood."

"Of course I realized it, Richard. I realized it when Shira suspiciously called to have lunch the other day. She said she could no longer 'honor our agreement' to not tell anyone about this. Especially because of Logan and Rory."

Richard got up carefully from his desk and joined his wife on the leather sofa in his study. Her head was in her hands, her palms pressed hard into her eyes to stifle the inevitable tears. Richard wrapped his arm around her.

As Emily quietly cried, Richard thought of what a burden it must have been for his wife to carry. He realized that when she found out, she must have been so upset that her family had been a lie, and that this seeming stranger in her life had the audacity to uproot the image she had of her "perfect" family, and throw it out the window. His thoughts led to a stunning revelation.

"Emily," he whispered.

"Yes?" she sniffed.

"You are perfect," he said.

"What?" she said curiously, removing her forehead from where it was pressed against her husband to look at him with a questioning expression.

"What I mean to say," continued Richard, "is that you are so perfect all the time, that it must be so exhausting. Just because this awful thing happened to you, it does not mean that you have to be so perfect all the time. People will forgive your flaws. The people that matter will. I know that this is coming thirty-five years too late, but this ordeal is not because of any flaw of your own. This was not your fault. And if you still think it so, then all is forgiven and forgotten, my dear. We shall never have to speak of this again." Richard said this in a calm, steady, yet stern voice. He heard his wife sob again. As she did, some of the hard bitterness she had adorned herself with so diligently for thirty-five years melted away.

* * *

The Gilmores were cleaning themselves up for dinner, when Emily realized that this dinner was to honor the happy couple. She wanted to present Rory and Logan with a gift, to commemorate their engagement.

Emily enlisted Richard's help as they descended into the basement, to find one of the antiques Emily had in mind. The two were sifting through dust-ridden cartons. Emily pulled one down that was marked "Harrow heirlooms," thinking she might find something in there. She carefully removed the fragile pieces of china, for which she had no room in her breakfront. She removed her mother's silver, and small figurines that had sat in her mother's bedroom when she was a child. And then at the bottom was the most ornately carved box that Emily had ever seen. It had vines of roses snaking up its sides, all meeting at the top where a beautiful flower lay. She carefully placed it on a table, and took a cloth to cleanse its dust-powdered lid. She lifted the top, and lying in its navy velvet-lined compartment was her mother's diamond necklace, and three of her father's favorite cigars. Emily recalled how the box used to sit, untouched, on the coffee table in the living room. As a child, she had always been instructed not to touch it, and to make sure it was always locked. Emily found the small brass key right next to the necklace.

She took the silver chain in her hand, laying the arc of diamond across her chest. Emily had many diamond necklaces now, but she remembered how radiant her mother had always looked wearing the jewelry with such pride. Pain stabbed at her heart when she thought of how her beautiful mother had betrayed her family. She placed the necklace down on the table, and picked up one of her father's prized cigars. Memories of her child self, padding into her father's study late at night, and sitting on his lap as he enjoyed a night cap and a cigar flooded her mind. She removed all three cigars and ran her fingers over the supple velvet. Her finger hit a small seam in the velvet, oddly placed. She examined it closely, and tugged at the protruding tab of blue ribbon. Curiosity got the better of her, and Emily lifted the cardboard flap to see a yellowed piece of paper sitting in the cavity, folded many times over. She carefully undid the creasing, caring not to rip the fragile document. When she opened it fully, and read what the paper said, she cried out for her husband.

"Richard! Richard, come here!" Tears started to stream from her eyes.

Richard came over quickly, wiping dust from his shoulders, thinking his wife was hurt. He stopped when he saw that she was reading something that was making her cry. He peered over her shoulder to see that the document had come from a lawyer, but also included a copy of a form from a lab, and was dated sixty years prior. It read:

_Dear Mr. Harrow-_

_The issue of your paternity of EMILY HARROW has been resolved. I received the lab report early this morning. I have attached the document for your convenience._

_ 5/20/49_

_ PEATON LABS_

_PATIENT 1: HAROLD HARROW_

_PATIENT 2: EMILY HARROW_

_PROCEDURE: DNA TEST: __PATERNITY_

_RESULT: THIS DOCUMENT IS TO CERTIFY THAT HAROLD HARROW IS THE BIOLOGICAL FATHER OF EMILY HARROW, ACCORDING TO A CLOSE ANALYSIS OF BOTH PARTIES' DNA._

_SIGNED,_

_Victor Dalton_

_CERTIFIED LAB_

_TECHNICIAN_

_I hope that this has put your concerns at ease. I look forward to speaking with you on Monday._

Her stubborn father had buckled and gotten a paternity test after all. She supposed it was just to sate his nagging curiosity. Once an idea had been planted, he had had a hard time of shaking it from his mind. However, none of that was important. Emily was so happy to read the news. The yellowed paper fell to the ground as she turned to face her husband. She cried into his strong chest. She wondered why she had allowed herself to be so cold for thirty-five years. It had not felt good, but after a while, it had become so habitual that it was natural.

Emily stopped crying when she heard the doorbell ring, signaling the arrival of her guests. She relished the moment when she could shove it in Shira Huntzberger's face. She picked up the paper, wiping her eyes as Richard went upstairs to greet everyone. Emily pocketed the paper and took the box with her, after replacing the necklace and cigars.

* * *

**A/N: Hello all! Sorry for any confusion with uploaded chapters, I'm still getting used to the software. So, this is a bit of an interesting idea that I wasn't sure would work, but it always bothered me that we never really knew why the two families despise each other so much, so I came up with my own answer. I'm aware that Shira is probably younger than Emily, but for the sake of Emily's character development, I wrote it as I did. I'm usually a stickler for sticking to details, but I hope for the sake of "suspension of disbelief" (a "deal" between reader and author that the reader will forgo what they know to be true and go along with the writer's imagination) you can forgive me. Anyways, enough rambling. I love, love, love all your reviews, and they absolutely keep me writing and posting. Thank you all so much for giving your attention to this story, it means the world. Happy reading!**


	6. Some People Can't Hold Their Arsenic

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

**A/N: Credit to _Chicago_ for the chapter title.**

* * *

Everyone arrived more or less within five minutes of each other. Mitchum had moved to the Hamptons house twenty-four hours prior, and was very terse in conversation with Shira. Despite his show of affection after her startling news, she had remained angry with him, although he had wanted to make amends. He would no longer tolerate her mental abuse. He was not much better with Richard. The two were still at odds over the possible state of Logan and Rory's finances, but Richard was temporarily alleviated of those worries in light of his happiness for his wife. Luke was totally aloof, trying to take in the fact that he was in the home of Emily Gilmore. Again.

After their drinks, dinner started. Conversation was as amicable as possible. Shira and Emily had shared a knowing look, acknowledging that both Mitchum and Richard knew of the circumstances. Logan and Rory, knowing only of his parents' relations as of late, forgot all about the Huntzberger hoopla for a while, enjoying the evening that was meant to celebrate their impending marriage. When the plates were cleared and dessert was not quite yet on the table, Richard clinked his glass to make a toast. Everyone raised their glasses and waited for Richard to make his speech.

"I would like to extend my best wishes to the happy couple. I hope your life is as wonderful and prosperous as my own has been." At "prosperous," he looked at Mitchum who gave Richard a hard glare. Emily brought out her coveted box, the diamond necklace and cigars still inside. She had wrapped it in tissue paper and put it in a bag, so that they could open it at home. They thanked Emily for the present. Neither minded the absence of gifts from the Huntzberger side, but the Huntzbergers were clearly uncomfortable in the position the Gilmores had put them in. They had been so busy with their own lives that gifts had not crossed their minds. Mitchum excused himself to go to the bathroom. He made sure he was out of sight before taking out his checkbook. He promptly wrote a five thousand dollar check. It was peanuts to him, or it used to be. While writing the last zero, he stopped, pen in midair. He remembered his company, and how it would look to Shira and Richard if he handed Rory and Logan _any_ amount. He ripped up the check, putting the shreds in his breast pocket. He returned to the dining room, in an even worse mood if possible.

After dessert, Honor, Rory, Lorelai and Emily went upstairs to Lorelai's old bedroom to talk, mostly about the wedding. Shira and Mitchum elected to leave right after dessert, leaving Josh, Logan, Luke, and Richard to drink and smoke at their leisure.

* * *

Upstairs, the girls spread out on the floor, with Emily on the bed. Lorelai had a spark in her eye, partially from her recent reconnection with Luke, but also because she noticed her mother's good spirits. She was never one to question them when they came out of hiding, for they were very rare moments not to be jeopardized.

After a lot of wedding banter, mostly on the part of Lorelai and Emily who were going to have quite a time of planning the event in the next few weeks, Honor and Rory left the room at the mention of some of Emily's old hatboxes in the hall closet. She had told the girls that a lot of scrapbook bits were in the hatboxes from a book of her wedding that had fallen apart. They were bound to find samples of every wedding component imaginable, from fabric to cardstock. This left Emily and Lorelai alone in the bedroom that had harbored so many memories for them, mostly unpleasant ones.

Emily smoothed the pin straight comforter with her aging hand, and Lorelai rubbed he shoulders as she looked around her old bedroom, shivering as if the memories were ghosts in the air, chilling her to the core.

"You know the décor really isn't that bad," started Lorelai, wanting to get off on the right foot. She considered using the look for one of the rooms at the inn that needed redoing.

"Thank you," said Emily absentmindedly.

A short, awkward silence ensued until Lorelai broke it with the mention of the most glaring issue at hand. "Mom, I don't want to fight over this wedding with you. It's Rory's special day and we're both going to have to compromise. Ultimately, she has the last word, no matter what."

"I agree."

"You _agree?_" said Lorelai, stunned at her mother's cooperation. "What's gotten into you?"

"What, I can't be agreeable?" asked Emily, offended.

"No mom, _you_ can't. I honestly don't think you're capable. You are just like Grandpa." Lorelai was of course referring to her own grandfather, on her mother's side. Emily chuckled at the statement.

"Yes, that man did have quite the stubborn streak," she said. "But not too stubborn," she added, the volume of her voice fading as she did, suggesting it had merely been an internal thought that was not meant to be verbalized.

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Lorelai, intrigued.

Emily was tired. She was tired of all the emotion that this incident had brought her over the years, and she figured that the sooner everyone knew about it, the sooner she could move on and stop crying over it.

"He wasn't too stubborn to get a paternity test," said Emily. Lorelai laughed.

"Why would Grandpa have needed a paternity test?" asked Lorelai, thinking her mother had gone crazy, not for the first time.

"There was a time, when I was barely a year old that people thought I may not have been his daughter."

"People? Who's 'people?'"

"Shira's parents," said Emily, matter-of-factly.

"Shira's parents? Okay you're gonna have to fill in some letters here, Vanna." Emily sighed, not really wanting to go through the whole thing again.

"My mother had an affair with Shira's father. Her mother thought I was his daughter. My father forgave my mother, and supposedly refused to get a paternity test. But when I went to get the gift for Rory and Logan, I found the document saying that he did get one."

"And?" said Lorelai, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"And the assumptions were false. I am Harold Harrow's daughter."

Lorelai's heart slowed down. She did not want to have to think about how Rory and Logan could have possibly been related. She especially didn't want to think of her grandfather as not being her grandfather. Suddenly, Lorelai had a thought.

She got up off the floor and sat next to her mother on her bed. They sat a mere inch apart. Emily had a far off look, and her eyes were glassing over. Lorelai could tell that her mother was inundated with memories of her family.

"When Shira first told me about it, I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't bear the thought that my mother who I loved so dearly, who loved my father so dearly, could betray our family like that." Emily sniffed back a single tear. "I blocked it out of my memory, hoping that if I did everything I was supposed to, everything I was taught to do, that no mistake like that could become a part of my life ever again. And then all of _this_ happened," she said gesturing to Lorelai's room, where she had been holed up while pregnant with Rory. "It was like it was happening all over again. My perfect little family that I tried to create in place of the one that I never got to have was falling apart at the seams."

Lorelai was crying. Then, she did the unthinkable. She gave her mother a hug.

The two eldest Gilmore women were crying on the bed when Honor and Rory came back into the room. The smiles on their faces quickly vanished when they saw Lorelai and Emily.

"Mom, what's wrong?" said Rory, alarmed at her mother's state.

"Nothing, nothing," she said with a smile, wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's been a long week. I think I just need to go home and sleep."

Just then, Luke came in, knocking lightly on the door.

"Excuse me ladies, but I think Lorelai and I are going to head home now. Honor, Josh is waiting for you downstairs."

Honor hugged Rory and Lorelai, and said a gracious goodbye to Emily. Rory followed her downstairs to find Logan. Lorelai got up and took Luke's hand. Emily remained on the bed, still in a dazed state.

"Emily, Richard's in his study. I think maybe he's had a little too much to drink," said Luke cautiously. Emily suddenly sprang into action, down the stairs to see if Richard was okay.

* * *

The "men" were sitting in Richard's study. Logan and Richard were drinking Richard's favorite cognac, and he had graciously allowed Luke to drink beer, since he was forced to suffer through Emily's taste in wine. Josh had abstained from any more alcohol. Only Richard had a cigar. Logan, Josh and Richard chatted a while about business, making Luke uncomfortable. He nodded his head at the appropriate times, but his idea of business and society's idea of business differed greatly. Luke was concerned if his food deliveries were late, not if the stock market was doing poorly.

Internally, Richard and Logan had both had emotionally trying weeks. They had a bit more to drink than they intended. Luke and Josh began to exchange nervous looks, as the other two got tipsy. Both chose to leave the study, a few minutes apart for various "reasons."

Logan and Richard were both on the couch in the study. Logan put down his fourth empty glass and looked at Richard.

"Mr. Gilmore I must say I'm impressed. You're a man who can hold his liquor."

"Yes, well it's been quite the week," he replied, slurring.

"I'll drink to that," said Logan. They both laughed. Richard looked fleetingly at the bottle they had been pouring from, but it was empty, so any ideas of further consumption were put to rest. "I'll tell you, if my father ever drank like this with guests in our home, my mother would have left him." Logan let out a small laugh. "I guess he doesn't have to worry about that anymore."

Richard who had been drowsily staring at his desk, look suddenly at Logan at the careless mention of his parents. "I beg your pardon?" said Richard, his tongue heavy.

"They split up. Thirty-five years of marriage gone because of some stupid business blunder," said Logan. He had gotten up to noncommittally peruse the bookshelf. He plopped down haphazardly into Richard's office chair.

"Well I wouldn't diminish it to a 'blunder.' Running a large corporation into the ground is a bit larger than that," said Richard.

"What are you talking about, Richard? That is just a small financial snag." Each word was punctuated with a casual flourish of his hand. Logan became more and more dramatic as the drinks took effect.

"Logan, HPG is going bankrupt."

Logan looked stunned. Just then, Rory opened the study door to see Logan in a heap on her grandfather's chair.

Emily was a moment behind, resting her eyes on the disheveled sight of her husband. She was mortified. "Richard! How could you have been so irresponsible! We have company!"

"It was just a few drinks, Emily," said Richard drowsily.

Luke gently pushed past Emily, helped Richard up and put his arm around his shoulder, as if he had broken his leg. Luke got him up the stairs and into the master bedroom.

When he came back down, Lorelai was in the car and Rory was in the foyer, getting her coat from the closet.

"Is Logan okay?" asked Luke. "I was about to come back for him."

"Yeah, Mom and I got him in the car."

"Good," said Luke. There was a lingering moment of awkwardness. He said goodbye and went to open the door to leave.

"Luke," said Rory.

"Yeah," he said, turning around.

"Thank you."

"For what?" he said.

"For coming back to mom. For making her happy. For taking care of her."

"Of course. I wouldn't trust anyone else with her." Rory smiled. Luke reciprocated the action and opened the door.

Rory said goodbye to her grandmother, and left. When she got in the car, she looked over at Logan, who had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. She rolled her eyes and drove away from the Gilmore mansion. The lights were still on in the house. It never seemed to be at peace.

* * *

A week after the family dinner, Shira was sitting at home in the middle of the afternoon, a very rare occurrence. She had often felt the loneliness of solitude when Mitchum was away on business or staying late at the office, but this loneliness was a different sort. It was more concrete, more final. Especially since at that moment, Shira was at the writing desk, staring at a three-page packet of papers. Her pen was poised over the dotted line, and for some reason, she could not yet bring herself to sign them, because when she did, she would officially be divorced.

Shira was literally saved by the bell; her doorbell rang at three o'clock, signaling the arrival of the mail. She opened the door and winced at the presence of light. She brusquely took the mail from the mailman and sifted through the envelopes. Most were catalogue subscription renewals and bills, which she had to forward to Mitchum. But one stark white envelope caught her eye. The return address stated that it was from the house of Gilmore.

Shira sat down at the desk and carefully opened the seal. She was actually quite surprised to receive anything from the Gilmores, since Shira wasn't really on speaking terms with them given all the hostility. A copy of a very old piece of paper fell out when she upended the envelope. Upon reading it, Shira found that it was the copy of the paternity test that Harold Harrow had in fact taken. A note at the bottom read,

"_Here is your proof. Rory and Logan are going to be married, and they need not be informed of the circumstances. To be clear, you no longer have any justification for thinking, even for a second, that Huntzberger blood is worth more than that of a Gilmore."_

Shira woodenly went through the motions of photocopying the document to mail to Mitchum. But with her own copy, she refolded the paper carefully, tracing back over the seams, trying to sew back together the seams of her own life in the process. And as if she decided to throw all caution to the wind, she got up from the desk and in one swift motion, threw the envelope into the fireplace. She lit a blaze and watched the creamy white edges blacken and turn to ash. The fire held her attention until it had extinguished. Dark had fallen on the rest of Hartford when Shira tore her gaze away. Her reservations somehow resolved, she took her pen and wrote her name on the dotted line, watching the ink seep into the veins in the page.

* * *

**A/N: Hi all! I hope you enjoyed that chapter. Thanks to whoever pointed out the error of the date in relation to the DNA test. As I said before, for the sake of suspension of disbelief, please disregard any factual discrepancies. Further, I'd like to add that these earlier chapters were written 4 years ago when my fact research skills were limited and I was a much poorer writer. I do a little bit of grammatical editing before I upload, but I don't want to overhaul the whole tone of the piece so I mostly leave it as is. Once again, thanks so, so much for reading and especially reviewing! I love to know you guys are out there enjoying and commenting, it warms my heart. Happy reading!**


	7. For the Love of Money

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

Richard could not stand the thought that he was going to give his granddaughter his blessing to marry into a life of monetary hardship. As such, he was not on speaking terms with the groom's father. It was this nagging concern that brought Richard to Stars Hollow, two weeks before the wedding was supposed to take place.

* * *

Lorelai and Emily were on better terms than they had been for the entirety of Lorelai's life. It seemed that both of them coming together to make Rory happy did wonders for their mother-daughter relationship. Emily, Rory, Lane, and Lorelai were at the Crap Shack, getting Rory's last fitting out of the way. Richard was meant to be playing golf, since the weather was so beautiful. It was a perfect seventy-five degrees in the last week of June and sunny with a light breeze. However, Richard made his way to his daughter's inn on this particular Sunday.

"Lane, just hold the fabric exactly like this," said Lorelai. She was crouched on the floor, trying to get the hem of Rory's dress absolutely perfect. Emily was flipping through a bridal magazine, looking for flowers for the bouquet. Lane was opposite Lorelai on the floor, holding up another part of the dress. Just then, the phone rang.

"Shoot," said Lorelai, who was so startled by the ringing that she poked her finger with the needle. She got off the floor quickly, sucking the blood off her index finger. Lane was left frozen, holding the dress so Lorelai's work would not come undone.

Lorelai came back after a minute. "Guys, there's a problem at the inn that I have to go deal with."

"What about the dress?" said Rory incredulously, as she was swathed in a sea of white at that moment.

"Lane can finish it up for you, if that's okay?" she said questioningly, looking first at Rory and then at Lane. Despite Lane's defiance to live a traditional Korean life, her mother had managed to teach her the fine points of basic sewing.

"I'll try, but I'm sure my talents won't measure up to those of the great Lorelai Gilmore."

Lorelai blushed. "Well, the Stars Hollow productions _never_ would have been the same without my handiwork," she joked. Lane and Rory laughed. Emily's expression looked momentarily inflicted with pain at yet another mention of some memory she had not been a part of. "Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can."

* * *

When Lorelai arrived at the inn, there was an ambulance waiting outside. She hurried up the porch steps to see who had gotten hurt.

"Michel! Michel, what's wrong?" she yelled as she came through the door, hoping that for once the man was actually doing his job and at the front desk. No one answered, but her question was. She saw Sookie on a stretcher being wheeled out of the kitchen.

"Sookie! What did you do?"

"Well, I was doing a test run for Rory's wedding cake, so I had samples all over the kitchen. I was piping one of the cakes and I had this brilliant idea for another cake. So as I'm darting to the other side of the counter, I bump into Miguel who was carrying a boiling pot of lobsters. The water sloshed and then I slipped on it, hence the broken leg."

Lorelai turned to the distraught waiter hovering to the side of the fray. "Miguel, how many times have I told you to watch out for Sookie when she's in her 'idea' stage?"

Miguel looked at Lorelai, his mouth agape. Was she seriously yelling at _him_ for _Sookie's_ broken leg?

"Sookie, just take care of your leg, please. I want you in prime condition for the actual wedding."

"I will," she said giggling.

"Call me when you find out how bad it is."

Just as the ambulance pulled away, and when Lorelai got off the phone with Jackson, she went into her office and put her head on her desk. She wanted all this mess to go away. She didn't want her best friend and practically Rory's aunt hurt for her daughter's wedding. She didn't want all the tension between her soon-to-be son-in-law's family and her own. She wanted everything to be perfect just for this one day, because she knew there would be plenty of family drama to accompany their married years. Just then, she heard a knock on her door.

"Yes?" she called.

"Your father eez ere," said Michel in his French accent.

"My father?" she asked.

"Yes your father. Would you like me to spell it for you, Lorelai?"

"No Michel, he can come in," she said, rolling her eyes. Richard's loafers could be heard crossing the wood floor and then he came through Lorelai's office door.

"Hello, Lorelai. That was quite a scene out there. Is everything all right?"

"Sure. Everything's just great. Sookie broke her leg, but other than that…"

"Well… may I sit?" asked Richard, feeling awkward about the question in the face of his daughter's emotional stress.

"Of course," said Lorelai dryly, wondering why her dad wanted to sit for their impending conversation. "Just so you know, mom's not here. She's at the house with Rory and Lane, helping with her last fitting."

At the mention of a wedding detail, Richard almost reconsidered what he was about to say. "That's nice. I'd like to see Rory's dress."

"Well come by, when we're done."

"Yes. So…"

"You had something you wanted to discuss?" prompted Lorelai, wanting to get back to Rory.

"Right. Lorelai, I hope you'll forgive me if I ask this question, because I am not asking it with malicious intent."

"Okay, shoot."

"Are you… happy that Logan and Rory are getting married?" he said slowly.

Lorelai looked at Richard with a hard gaze. He would not dare to become Emily Gilmore two weeks before his granddaughter's wedding. But then she remembered what he had just said about "malicious intent," so she answered the question.

"Well you know I haven't always been Logan Huntzberger's biggest fan, but despite it all, he's a good man and he makes her happy. I know that he would never do anything to harm Rory."

"Of course, but what if he were not a Huntzberger…in the sense that he could…no longer amply provide for her?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Dad."

"Has Rory told you about Huntzberger Publishing Groups?"

"She mentioned that Logan's dad's company was going through a rough patch, but she said Logan had made it seem like it wasn't a problem."

"Well, when he said that, Logan probably didn't know that it wasn't an issue."

"Is it?" she said, becoming increasingly alarmed as the conversation wore on.

"I should say so. The whole company is going bankrupt."

Lorelai was stunned to silence. But then, she got impatient. Despite the fact that her dad was always the more sane of her two parents, and that her mother was slowly turning over a new leaf, they were still her parents, and in that respect, completely unpredictable.

"Why are you here, Dad?" she said with a slight waver of anger in her voice.

"Lorelai, do not take that tone with me. I am only trying to protect Rory. I came here to alert you to the situation, because as her mother, I thought you might like to know if your daughter were about to enter into an economically trying marriage."

"But just because his father's company is going bankrupt, it doesn't mean that he is…" she said, disbelievingly.

"Lorelai, where do you think this boy's money comes from? Particularly after that sour deal he made last year, all he has is tied up in his father's accounts."

"Dad, please don't plant this seed. Plenty of young couples start off with nothing and work their way up. Please don't make this into anything else. They are happy, and I'm sure they are fully aware of their financial situation. Just don't meddle into this!"

"Lorelai, you know full well I can't do that! Rory is a Gilmore and I cannot stand by and watch the beginning of the next generation of Gilmores start off in financial ruin!"

"What about me, Dad? I had nothing when I left home, and I was sixteen with a baby. I think I did okay for myself, don't you?" she said, now extremely angered at her father's presumptions. She gestured around the room, the nexus of her successful inn, pointing to the evidence.

"Yes…" Richard said quietly. "Yes you did."

"I have to get back to Rory. You can come if you'd like."

"No, I have a few calls to make. I think I'll make my way back to Hartford."

"Fine."

"Goodbye Lorelai."

She could barely mumble a response in return.

Lorelai followed her father out with her a steel gaze. When she could no longer see his shadow, her eyes started to glass over. It seemed that the old questions of the society life she left behind were back to haunt her. Was a society marriage for love or money? And which was more important?

* * *

Lorelai made her way home, and when she came up her front porch, Lane was putting the finishing touches on Rory's gown. Lorelai walked in the front door and Rory, who was on a step stool, turned around slowly.

"Mom, look what Lane did!" She was referring to the diagonal strips of pearls that were sewn onto the bodice of the dress, right where the two lines met the bottom portion. As Rory's dress swished around her legs, the breath caught in Lorelai's throat. Her baby was getting married in two weeks. And she looked absolutely beautiful.

Before Lorelai knew it, Rory was hugging her, whispering that it was going to be okay.

"I know it is, baby. I know," Lorelai replied. She knew the answer to her question. It didn't matter if Logan had one dollar or a million dollars, Rory loved him, he loved her, and to Lorelai, that was all that mattered.

* * *

Rory returned to her apartment after dinner with her mother and Lane. Logan was on the phone and seemed agitated. She quietly slipped into their bedroom and hid her garment bag in the back of her closet. She changed into her pajamas and sat next to him on the couch while he finished his phone call.

"Yes, I understand that sir. Okay, I'll call you tomorrow. Yes. Goodbye." Logan pushed the "off" button, threw the portable phone down, and rubbed his hands through his hair. As if just noticing her, he turned to Rory. "Hey."

"Hey. Rough day?" she said, almost playfully.

"You don't even know," he kissed her quickly and got up from the couch. He started gathering his plate and mug from the coffee table, and he put them in the sink.

"Well my mom and Lane finished my dress."

"Wow, Ace. Will you put it on for me?" he said with a smirk.

"No, it's bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding."

"I know, I was kidding. I was trying to see if you were going to bend."

"Sorry buddy, I'm as firm as iron. So who was on the phone?"

"Ugh, my father's lawyers."

"What did they want?"

Logan sighed. He was at the counter in the kitchen, looking out into the living room. He came back to the couch where Rory had remained sitting. He sat down on the worn black leather and turned himself to look at her.

"Ace, there's something I need to tell you."

"Okay, what is it?" she said, her eyes filled with fear.

"My dad's company…it's a lot worse than I thought."

"What do you mean? I thought he told you that it wasn't a big deal."

"That's what I thought, too. But the other night at dinner at your grandparent's house, Richard let it slip that it wasn't just a small little blip. He said the whole company is going bankrupt."

"WHAT?" she said with her mouth agape.

"I know how that sounds, and don't be mad at me for not telling you when I found out, but I was hoping to smooth it out a little before I told you." Rory was trying to slow her breathing.

"Logan, do you know what this means? The very fact that you had to hear it from my grandfather, who by the way doesn't exactly care for Mitchum—"

"Tell him to join the club," Logan scoffed.

"Yes well the fact that he knows already means that he is already concerned with how this is going to affect us financially. And now, he's going to try and stop us from getting married because I think my grandfather would die before he let a Gilmore marry for love before money."

Logan looked confused for a moment, and then laughed.

"Logan, this is not funny. We are about to start our lives together, and we are going to be completely broke!" Rory was in awe at his cavalier attitude.

"Ace, I'm sorry, but it just dawned on me why you are so upset."

"Of course I'm upset Logan! We're not going to be able to afford a house or a car, and your "heir" status means absolutely nothing to us now! I don't even care about the money, but my grandparents do and that is a bad combination!"

"Okay, Rory, you have to calm down. We are going to get married; we are going to have a house _and_ a car. I might even throw in a private jet."

"Can you be serious for one moment here, Logan?"

"I _am_ being serious! When I started my own company, I took what funds I was entitled to from HPG's accounts and combined it with my own personal savings. I paid off my dad six months ago for that little blunder last year, and we've been living off our own, hard earned money. The only thing that's happened to us because of this fiasco, is that I am now saddled with my dad's well being. He doesn't have my mom or his work now, which is why I was talking to the lawyers. We are trying to figure this all out since Mr. Huntzberger shut himself away in our Hamptons house. Thank God that's already been paid off."

Rory looked stunned at Logan's prescience for his business. "I always thought you were a pretty smart guy," she said, closing the gap between them. Logan smiled and took her in his arms.

"Yeah, me too," he said smiling as he kissed her.


	8. In Omnia Paratus: I Think

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

When Logan woke up, his mind was flooded with particularly happy thoughts. In four hours, he had to be at the airport because his two best friends were flying in from New York. Tonight was the rehearsal dinner for his wedding. And tomorrow, at eleven o'clock in the morning, he would be marrying the love of his life.

Rory was at Christine's apartment, a friend from Yale, where the girls were gathering in preparation for Rory's afternoon bachelorette party.

Logan got dressed, ate a quick breakfast, and got in his car. He and Honor had some things to deal with before the evening festivities. In half an hour, Logan had driven to the airport and was ten minutes from landing in New York on his own company's jet. His driver met him at the airstrip, and by ten thirty, he had pulled up to his family's Hampton's house on Long Island. When he rang the doorbell, the maid answered.

"Hello Mr. Huntzberger. Won't you come in?" she said politely.

"Thank you, Celia," said Logan, who tried to make a point of learning the help's names. Celia smiled and retreated into the house to go about her daily work.

Logan made his way to his father's study, where he knew he'd be. He didn't bother to knock on the hard mahogany door.

"Hi Dad," he said loudly to the high back chair that was facing the window. Mitchum wheeled around suddenly. He had been sitting in the leather chair in his pajamas. He had a glass of scotch in his hand and it appeared that he had been drinking for quite a while.

Logan was stunned.

"Oh, Logan. It's you," said Mitchum, his speech highly impeded by the amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"Yeah it's me, Dad. Were you expecting someone else?" said Logan, obviously annoyed.

"You sound angry," said Mitchum, completely oblivious.

"Oh do I? Gee, I wonder why! Maybe it's because my father is acting like a four-year-old by hiding away in his house, drinking himself into a stupor!"

"That's just great, son! You go tank a billion dollar company and see how that affects your life!" Mitchum said, appalled at his son's confrontation.

"You know what Dad, I already tried that. I agree it sucks when you make a mistake. And sometimes, all you feel like doing is drinking and hiding, but I seem to recall a certain someone telling me to grow up and get over myself."

"That was in the past son. When I told you that, I was running a successful business. I didn't know what it felt like to give your life away, everything you have to your company and then watch it crash and burn."

"You know, I've had just about enough of your stupid self-pity! I didn't come here to convince you to get off your ass and clean yourself up. Frankly, I don't give a damn what the hell you do anymore. I came to check up on my hardworking father, who I thought was here trying to figure out how to get his business off the ground again. I came to find the dad who is supposed to be at his son's wedding tomorrow, but hasn't shown his god damn face around town for a month!"

Mitchum gave his son a droopy, drunken look.

Logan was waiting for him to say something insightful, an apology at the least, but nothing came. "Screw you, Dad." Logan stormed out of his father's office, and then slammed the door to the house.

The limo was waiting for him, but instead he took off walking down the street. He had no idea where he was going, but he just needed to clear his head.

* * *

After walking for perhaps twenty minutes, he arrived in the small, waterfront town. He sat down at a table outside a café and called his sister.

"Hey Honor, it's Logan," he said wearily.

"Hey! How's Dad?"

"How would you be if you sank the family business?" he asked her with a slight bit of contempt.

"Yeah, but it's Dad. He can't be _that_ far gone," she said disbelievingly.

"How does a bathrobe and a bottle of scotch sound to you?"

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. So how's Mom?" he asked. Each of the Huntzberger children had made it their day's mission to start to slowly drag their parents out of their ever-deepening holes.

"She's okay, relatively speaking. Every other word that comes out of her mouth is some type of curse or evil wish for Dad. She hasn't left the house in days. She hasn't even laid a hand on your wedding plans."

"That's big. She didn't even touch the binder Emily sent her?"

"Didn't even _glance_ at it," said Honor with a sigh. "She's only had the lawyers at the house. She's on this 'complete independence' kick. She wants a copy of every bank statement and legal document that she has ever had anything to do with. She says she'll be damned before she ever has to depend on a man to keep her life in order again."

"I guess in a way that's really great for her. I think we're well beyond reconciliation. I'll be happy if I can get them to stand on opposite sides of the room tomorrow."

"Oh, don't worry. Mother says she'll be there no matter what. She 'won't let her ex-husband's presence stop her from living her life' is what she said."

"Well…how are you?" asked Logan quietly.

Honor was silent for a moment. "I don't know. I guess I always had this fantasy that when we were all leading separate lives that maybe Mom and Dad would have an actual marriage, you know? Without all the business and society headaches. That we'd be able to see each other at least once a year and have a semi-normal holiday dinner—something stupid like that."

"It's not stupid to want a normal family relationship, Honor. I feel the same way."

"Yeah well I'm just sorry you had to deal with all this the day before your wedding. Don't let it bother you. You and Rory—that's all you should care about. That's your _real_ family."

"You're my real family, Honor."

"Well that goes without saying."

The two of them laughed.

"So I'll see you later. If I don't make it back in time, do you think Josh could pick Colin and Finn up at the airport?"

"Yeah. I'll keep checking up on Mom, but I'm on my way to Rory's party right now."

"Okay, have fun. I'll keep you posted."

"Bye." She hung up.

Logan snapped his phone shut and dropped it in his breast pocket. He looked out on the water. The sun was glinting off the surface, and the docked boats swayed gently on their tethers. For a brief moment, the world of Logan Huntzberger was quiet. He leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and fell asleep.

* * *

An hour later, Logan woke up to the sound of seagulls, and was momentarily confused. Then the events of the past few months inundated his brain, and his relaxing rest was forgotten. Just as he was getting his bearings, a black limousine entered his line of sight. It was rolling at a mere five miles per hour, and the rear window was open. Mitchum stuck his head out, wearing thin Oakley shades.

"Logan, can I talk to you for a second?" asked Mitchum.

"No," he said, angry and disgusted with his father's behavior. He got up brusquely from his chair and started walking in the opposite direction of the car, back up the road. Mitchum's driver did a U-turn and caught up with Logan in no time.

"You won't be able to make it back to the airport. I sent your driver home," said Mitchum, leaning further out the window.

Logan stopped in his tracks and looked coldly at his father. "Wow Dad, you really are something. Now only if you'd use that drive of yours and put it towards revamping HPG."

Mitchum rolled his eyes. "Logan, I will not have this conversation with you while rolling along in a car. Either come in here, or walk back to the airport."

Logan grudgingly consented, and went around to the other side of the car.

"What?" said Logan woodenly, once he was seated in the back of the limo.

"I understand if you think your own business fiasco less than a year ago is justification for you being able to put me in my place." He was angry now. Logan looked out the window and crossed his arms, feeling like a sixteen-year-old all over again.

Mitchum continued. "But I am still your father, and because of that I command a shred of respect, for whatever it's worth."

Logan scoffed at the remark.

Mitchum wasn't having any of it. "There you go again with your stupid smirk. You're not twelve any more Logan, so if you have something you want to say, say it!" Mitchum's face was bright red, his veins pulsed in his forehead.

Logan whipped his head around to face his father. "Alright Dad, you asked for it. Yes, I'm not twelve anymore. I am an adult with actual opinions. Frankly, I'm appalled that my own father who is at least twice my age is acting more like a child than I am at the moment. It's amazing how I have my life together after everything I've done, and you're just letting yours fall apart."

"I beg your pardon—"

"No! Just shut up and listen to someone other than yourself for five seconds, Dad! So what, you made a few bad decisions. Revel in the fact that it hasn't happened business-wise until now, but get over it and figure out what the hell you're going to do. As for Mom, walking away was the stupidest thing you've ever done. Let me tell you first hand that swallowing your pride and starting from square one is a lot easier if you have someone to count on—"

"Well I certainly can't count on your mother," interjected Mitchum.

"That's bullshit. I don't care what she said or did, but I know she wants you back, Dad. For whatever it's worth, you married each other for more than a good name. And if you can learn anything from this, it's not how much you have, but who you have that matters. When you have absolutely nothing left, if you still have the person that you lie next to every night, then you know you're going to be okay." Logan was breathing heavily, partially because of his physical exertion, and partially because of the rush he got from telling off his dad.

Mitchum, upon hearing his son's last statement looked out his window. The sky was a pale gray, not at all what it was a few hours ago. The clouds had moved in, obscuring the sun. Mitchum closed his eyes against the glaring light and clenched his teeth. Anger coursed through his body, and as much as he wanted to direct it at his son, he knew he was really angry with himself. He was angry for defying every principle he had ever set for himself in the face of his company's disaster. He had gone against the cardinal Huntzberger rule: Never let life get you down. And if it does, you get right back up and keep walking as if you had never tripped in the first place.

Subconsciously, Logan had stuck fast to this principle, but Mitchum was determined now more than ever to adhere to it religiously. For once, he did the unthinkable—he swallowed his pride. To ensure that at this moment, he was turning over a new leaf, he literally swallowed, and in the thick, tense atmosphere of the backseat, Logan could hear his father's literal change.

Slowly, Mitchum turned to his son, who in his own moments of distress had embodied the ideal, to the secret pride of Mitchum.

When father and son were looking at each other intensely, trying to calculate the other's next move, Mitchum said, "Logan, I…don't know what to do." While Mitchum broke down from the admission, Logan smiled, because he would finally be able to help his dad after all these years of trying to please him.

* * *

Logan had the maid pack Mitchum a bag with a tuxedo, so that Mitchum could accompany him back to Connecticut.

Father and son were suspended in the air, half an hour from Hartford. Mitchum was sleeping, and Logan was nervously checking his watch, hoping he'd make it back in time for Colin and Finn. Logan looked around the small, quiet plane and was about to put his headphones in when Mitchum woke with a start.

"Hey sleepy head," said Logan with a smirk. It wasn't often that he was present when Mitchum Huntzberger was caught off guard. The grogginess cleared itself quickly from Mitchum's mind.

"Wipe that stupid smirk off your face," said Mitchum jokingly. Logan smiled since his father was in considerably higher spirits than he had been an hour ago.

"Derek, would you get my father here a glass of sparkling water?" said Logan to the on-hand butler.

"Of course Mr. Huntzberger, right away."

Mitchum chuckled at "Mr. Huntzberger." He had only heard the term when he himself was being addressed, but suddenly, as he looked at the son that was sitting across from him, he noticed that he was indeed a "Mr." and no longer a boy. Even on a day when he wasn't in the office, he was wearing a suit. He had a glass of scotch in his left hand, one earphone in, the other hanging freely at his side. His bright gaze was trained on the window, and there was a distinct jovial youthfulness to the glint in his eye. His face seemed to be creased with a never-ending smile. Mitchum cocked his head slightly. Logan was completely unaware of his father's scrutiny.

It was in this candid moment that Mitchum noticed that Logan had really come into his own, met his expectations, and far surpassed them. His son, within whom he had struggled for so long to instill a sense of pride, was doing much better than Mitchum was. He was successful, in love, and happy. None of those things held true for Mitchum at the moment, but he was content to live vicariously through Logan for now. Perhaps Mitchum was wrong. Maybe he _did_ have his son through this whole debacle.

The plane landed with just enough time to have a driver take Mitchum to a hotel, and for Logan to drive the ten minutes to the commercial airport where he would be greeting Colin and Finn.

* * *

Logan stood at the terminal, casually wearing the chauffer's suit he had made Frank lend him. Colin and Finn stepped off the gangplank and scanned the mob of people at the terminal, passing Logan's clever disguise over twice before realizing it was their best friend. Colin noticed first and quickly strode over to Logan. He dropped his bags and gave Logan a brotherly hug. Logan patted Finn on the back, who was swaying as he stood, probably a little hung over from the first class treatment.

Colin took one look at him and said to Logan, "I think we should get him to a hotel, before this afternoon's festivities."

"Yeah, good idea," said Logan who couldn't suppress a laugh. The boys were back.

On the way out of the airport, Finn hit on three red heads, which in turn made his companions turn red as they had to deal with the wrath of the young ladies and make excuses for the recently inebriated Finn.

Finn passed out on his bed and Colin dropped his bags at the foot of his when they got to the hotel.

"So," said Colin. "Finn and I have quite the bachelor party planned for you, Mr. Huntzberger so go get some rest."

"I will. Will our young Finn here be up for the festivities?" asked Logan, looking at his friend who was lying prone on the bed, mouth ajar with a sonorous snore escaping from the chasm that was his throat.

"Oh don't worry about him. He'll be fine."

With one last sidelong glance, Logan left his friends at the hotel to go get ready for the afternoon. He opened his cell phone and called his fiancée.

"Hello?" said Rory. It was obvious that she had just been laughing, which made Logan smile.

"Hey Ace," he said in that smooth voice of his.

"Logan! What's up?" she asked.

"Nothing I just wanted to make sure you were having fun. I just picked the boys up at the airport, and of course Finn is completely out of it. But Colin has assured me that he will be in prime condition for my bachelor party this afternoon."

Rory was laughing at the image of Finn completely intoxicated. "I can't wait to see them tonight. It's been way too long. Well I gotta go babe, the girls are practically pulling my arm out of my socket. I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you too," he said. She hung up and he snapped the phone shut.

* * *

As instructed, Logan went back to the apartment and took a nap. He was in the midst of a restful dream when he was woken up by a loud knock on the door. Wearing a t-shirt and Yale sweatpants, Logan stumbled to answer it. When he opened it, a young man in a black ski mask attacked him. He wrestled Logan to the floor and secured a blindfold on his face. Logan winced from the impact of hitting the floor with a man on top of him, but was still coherent.

"What is this?" asked Logan in a muffled voice. His head was still pressed against the floor.

"In omnia paratus," said the man, in a voice that was obviously not his own. He was trying to keep up the disguise, but Logan smiled. He recognized that voice—he would know it anywhere.

* * *

Logan was in the back of an SUV, blindfolded and being driven around by his old boss at the Yale Daily News.

"Doyle, can I ask one question?"

"I'm really not supposed to let you talk. And how did you know it was me?"

"Oh come on Doyle. How did you get saddled with my kidnapping?"

"Colin and Finn said I wasn't cut out for the rest of it, so they sent me to kidnap you."

"I see. And where exactly are we going?"

"I can't tell you that," said Doyle, although the car had just stopped so Logan was about to find out. Doyle came around to the back of the car and helped Logan out of it. He helped him walk a portion of the way. Logan complied, only because he was intrigued with what kind of bachelor party Colin and Finn had managed to come up with. He had been expecting a night out with the guys at Rich Man's Shoe, filled with jokes about his commitment to marriage. He had not expected to be attacked by Doyle.

"Okay, here we are, Mr. Huntzberger," said Doyle as he removed the blindfold. When the eye covering came off, Logan was in front of a lake. The sun was still high in the sky, and all of his friends, Colin and Finn chief among them, were dressed to go swimming. Many of them were already out on the water, waterskiing and tubing. A barbeque was going under a nearby tree, next to which was a bathing suit for Logan. Logan was in shock. Colin and Finn snuck up on either side of him.

He turned to them. "Guys, this is amazing! How did you do all of this!"

"Oh you know, magic…" said Finn, gazing out onto the water.

"And maybe a little help from out trust funds," said Colin as he drank the remnants of his beer. Logan laughed.

Just then, a boat with a giant parasail pulled up alongside the shore. "Shall we?" asked Colin as he gestured towards the boat and set his beer bottle on the picnic table. The three friends all got on and were soon flying above the water. Finn of course decided on the way back down to dive into the lake.

* * *

For a couple of hours, Logan enjoyed hanging out in the sun with his friends, catching up with a few people from Yale that he hadn't seen in a while. When he finally got a moment alone to enjoy a hamburger and a beer, he looked out on the glistening water and thought how much his Ace would enjoy the sight. Colin and Finn found him a few minutes later.

"Hey buddy, want to go for a ride?" said Colin.

"A ride? We already went parasailing, and I'm pretty sure Finn is still shaking off that dive."

"No really, I'm fine," said Finn who stumbled a little as he approached Logan, still a little dizzy.

"Right…" said Logan.

"No I meant on _that,_" said Colin, pointing to the beautiful twenty-foot sailboat that was floating on the water.

"Sure," said Logan breathlessly, in awe of the beautifully crafted mahogany vessel. Colin stuck his fingers in his mouth to procure a whistle. When he did, several guys came over and literally lifted Logan off his feet, and carried him hero-style to the boat. Colin and Finn climbed on, and Finn stood at the bow in Titanic fashion. He stood like a solider, with his hand touched to his brow.

"Bon voyage! In omnia paratus!" The phrase was met with a chorus of "in omnia paratus!" from the shore. Colin and Logan couldn't stop laughing.

When Logan did finally catch his breath, Colin was commandeering the ship and Finn was sunbathing. Logan looked at the calm water, his hair rustled by the wind. Colin came to sit next to him. They sat that way in blissful silence for a few minutes.

"This is freedom," said Colin.

"Yeah..." said Logan, whose gaze remained trained on the glistening waves.

"Are you gonna miss it?" asked Colin.

"I'm pretty sure that I'll always be guaranteed my civil liberties. At least in this country," said Logan, shooting Colin a confused look.

"No I mean the freedom to do whatever you want, whenever you want. You're getting married tomorrow."

"I concur!" yelled Finn, who had been startled awake. Colin and Logan both snapped their heads in Finn's direction.

"How do you know what you 'concur' with?" said Logan, looking at Finn who had joined them.

"I…Colin, how do I know what I concur with?" asked Finn.

"Well…" said Colin somewhat sheepishly.

Logan was looking back and forth between his two friends when it hit him. "Oh. I see what's going on here," said Logan coolly.

"What?" said the two of them incredulously. "N-n-nothing's going on here Logan, we don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay, enough with the act. You're afraid that by me marrying Rory tomorrow, that we're never going to see each other again," concluded Logan.

"Well not _never_," said Colin. "Just not _as much_."

"Well, if that's how you feel, then I won't get married."

"WHAT!" said Colin and Finn in unison.

"That's crazy mate," said Finn. "You love her."

"Exactly. Now as ridiculous as that sounded, that's precisely how weird you two sound. Do you think I would get married and then ignore my best friends for the rest of my life? Guys, all I'm doing is starting the next chapter. We went through boarding school together, we made it through Yale. This is just the next step and some day both of you will be ready to take that step. And I promise that when you are, I'll kidnap you and take you out for a boat ride just like you did to me."

Colin and Finn were stunned to silence. Then after a minute, they started bickering.

"See I told you he wasn't going to ditch us," said Colin to Finn.

"What are you talking about? _I_ told _you_ that—"

"Guys!" roared Logan. They looked at him like four-year-olds caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"As flattered as I am that you are fighting over me, we really need to turn this thing around. I have to be at the rehearsal dinner in an hour."

"Don't worry. We've got you covered," said Colin. He moved to the helm of the ship, and after half an hour of careful steering, Colin maneuvered the boat into the docks at the Hartford Yacht Club.

"We're here!" said Colin. He quickly tied the boat to the dock and darted towards the main clubhouse.

"Oh wait!" said Colin. He had suddenly remembered something. He got back on the boat and opened up one of the seat storage compartments. He pulled out a garment bag and handed it to Logan. "I almost forgot," he said. "Your tux."

Logan took it, still in shock that his crazy friends had managed to pull this whole thing off.

* * *

Emily and Richard, dressed to the nines, were standing in front of the Hartford Yacht Club. They had pulled a lot of strings in order to have their granddaughter's rehearsal dinner there, and the groom was supposed to have arrived fifteen minutes ago.

"Do you see him?" asked Richard. Emily was canvassing the parking lot in search of Logan.

"Obviously not Richard. Don't you think—"

"Richard! Emily! I've been looking for both of you!"

Richard and Emily wheeled around suddenly, as Logan emerged from the club, fully dressed in his tuxedo.

Emily was dumbfounded. "We've been standing out her for ten minutes! When did you arrive?"

Logan chuckled. "You must have just missed me. I went in the side door and straight into the men's locker room to change. Where's Rory?"

"Her and the girls are getting ready inside," said Emily, impressed with Logan's surprise appearance.

"Great. I'll be seeing you two a bit later."

Logan walked back inside the club and into the cocktail area. Rory was just coming out of the locker room, with Lorelai, Lane, and Paris close behind. Logan's breath caught in his throat. She was wearing the most stunning pale blue satin dress; reminiscent of the one Logan had bought her for the LDB event. It hugged her frame snugly and touched the floor just enough to make it seem like she was walking on air. Her hair was up, with a few strands cascading down in slight curls. She caught sight of her fiancé.

"Logan! Guess who just got here? Paris!" she yelled.

Paris came over to give Logan a hug.

"How are you?" asked Logan politely. However, all he was thinking about was Rory.

"Oh I've been busy. But lets not talk about me! Today is your day," she said gesturing to both Rory and Logan. Logan came to wrap his arm around Rory.

"Okay you two," started Lorelai. "Lets get this thing started."

Christopher, Luke, Doyle, Sookie, and Jackson had arrived, so they had the whole crew. Honor was there as well, but no sign of Shira or Mitchum. Everyone went into the ballroom where the run-through was taking place.

Everyone went through the motions of tomorrow's wedding. The only exception being that hopefully Logan's parents would be in attendance. After the mock event, everyone gathered in the dining room for dinner and caught up on each other's lives. Amidst it all, Logan took a second to take in the scene around him. He was surrounded by his best friends, Honor, Josh, and his hand was resting on the small of Rory's back. At that moment, he had everything he could have ever asked for. And tomorrow he got to officially start his life with Rory. Someone made a joke and it snapped Logan out of his reverie. He threw his head back in laughter. Life was good.

* * *

It was well after dark when the party dispersed for the evening. Hugs were exchanged all around, as well as excited well wishes for tomorrow's occasion. Richard and Emily were the last of the guests to leave. However Rory and Logan were not going back to their apartment. Instead, Logan would be staying with Luke in his apartment above the diner, although he spent most of his nights at Lorelai's. Rory would spend one last night in her old bedroom before she officially got married.


	9. Terms of Endearment

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

**A/N: Just a quick short chapter to hold you guys over...I think I'll update again this weekend, but I'm not sure. Credit to the movie _Terms of Endearment_ for the title and references. Anyway, happy reading!**

* * *

Logan and Luke's footsteps echoed on the hollow staircase as they made their way upstairs. It was pitch black and Luke struggled blindly to insert his key into the old fashioned lock. He relied mostly on memory, his hands tracing over the worn wood that was so familiar to him. When he finally popped the door open, the pane of glass reading "Private" wobbled in its place. He made a mental note to fix it.

Luke threw the keys on the kitchen table. They slid a few inches before stopping dangerously close to the edge. He turned on two lamps. Logan stood and watched the ritual with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Okay. We have the kitchen, living room, my bed, and your bed is right there," said Luke, gesturing to each section of his apartment. "Help yourself to anything."

"Thanks," Logan said quietly. He walked slowly towards his bed and Luke disappeared behind the wall to his "bedroom." Logan sat down on the bed. It creaked a little. He looked around the apartment, a little bewildered that Luke had lived here for so long, and that he was sleeping here the night before the wedding. But Rory had thought it would be a good idea, so who was he to say otherwise?

"Jess, my nephew, left these here. I was thinking you might need them," Luke said as he returned with a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants for Logan to sleep in.

"Right," Logan said as he took them from Luke. "These belonged to Jess?" he asked, looking up at Luke.

"Oh…is that…weird for you?" asked Luke, panicking that he had offended Logan.

"No, no it's okay. They're just pajamas."

"Right," said Luke, relieved.

"So the bathroom is…"

"Oh sorry, it's to your right."

"Great," said Logan. He went to change. When he closed the door, both men simultaneously let out their breath. It was going to be a long night. Luke changed and came back into the living room. He saw Logan's garment bag lying on the bed, so he took it and hung it in the closet. Logan saw him close the closet door when he came out of the bathroom. Luke turned around, startled when he heard the door open.

"Oh I was just hanging it up for you," said Luke.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. And thanks for letting me stay here. I know it's a little…weird to say the least."

"Yeah well Lorelai asked me to do it so…and Rory, she's been like a daughter to me so anything I can do for her." _She also wanted me to get to know you_, Luke thought to himself.

"Right," said Logan. He sat down on the bed again and eyed a stack of books sitting on the bedside table. Chief among them were _Oliver Twist_ and _The Fountainhead_. _They must have belonged to Jess,_ he thought. He was tempted to leaf through them, but Luke saw him looking at them.

"Sorry, I'll get these out of the way," said Luke, who swept them up and put them in the top drawer of the dresser. He turned around and leaned on it, his hands in the pockets of the jeans he had changed into. Logan was sitting on the bed, trying to look at the floor. Luke was tracing the knots in the wood with his own eyes. He didn't know if he was supposed to just say "good night" or talk to Logan or something like that.

"So I don't know how this works. Like if I'm supposed to impart some great wisdom on you since it's the night before your wedding and all. But I'm not exactly in a position of authority on the subject. My attempts at getting married have never exactly worked out. But don't worry…you'll be fine. Rory's a great girl,"

"I know she is," said Logan, cracking a smile for the first time since he walked into Luke's apartment. Logan changed position to lay flat on the bed. He put his hands behind his head.

"I know that you probably want your dad to be telling you all this—"

"I couldn't care less. He didn't have the decency to show up at the rehearsal dinner, I don't even know if either of my parents will be there tomorrow. So trust me, I'd rather be hearing it from you. Besides, we have a lot more in common anyway."

Luke wasn't sure if he should keep talking, since Logan was now upset, but something Logan had said intrigued him. "You and I have something in common?" he asked disbelievingly. "I mean, no offense," he quickly added.

Logan sat up again. "You are the only other man I know that can effectively manage living life _and_ loving a Gilmore girl. Most find the two impossible to handle at the same time." Logan said.

Luke laughed. "Yeah. Except you can't manage your life and loving a Gilmore girl. They become one and the same, a natural state you fall into once they've ensnared you."

"That's true," said Logan, laughing.

Luke felt a little more comfortable talking about an area in which he had expertise. He sat down next to Logan on his bed. "Have you ever watched a movie that you actually _wanted_ to see on a Saturday night?" asked Luke timidly.

Logan looked at him. "_Never_," he said. They both laughed. There was another moment of silence.

"So you should be getting to bed," said Luke.

"It might be helpful," said Logan, smiling.

Luke walked across the apartment to his own bed and went to turn off the lights. His hand was on the last lamp switch when Logan said something. "Luke?" he called out.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around to face the darkened mass that he thought was Logan.  
"She's lucky to have you. Lorelai," he clarified.

"No," he said. "I'm lucky to have _her_."

Logan smiled, although Luke couldn't see it. Luke called out a muffled "good night." Logan continued to smile, even when he fell asleep, because he finally found someone who felt the exact same way he did about the Gilmore girls.

* * *

Lorelai and Rory watched Luke's truck with Logan in the passenger seat part ways with their car when they entered Stars Hollow. They were heading to the diner apartment for the night.

"Do you think Logan will be okay?" Rory asked her mother, worried.

"Luke will take good care of him," she said in a voice of mock concern.

Rory hit her arm slightly. "You know what I mean," she said.

"He'll be fine. Luke will be fine. They're guys, they'll… bond or whatever."

Rory gave her mother a dry look.

"Oh god, you're right. They're like oil and water. Should we go rescue them?" asked Lorelai. They were sitting in the car in front of the house.

Rory yawned. "No. I'm tired. Maybe it'll be good for them. They can commiserate about how they both fell in love with a Gilmore girl."

Lorelai laughed. "Lets get you to bed," she said, opening the car door.

Paul Anka attacked the two with kisses when they walked into the dark house. Lorelai turned on the lights and Rory turned into her bedroom to change. Lorelai let Paul Anka out in the backyard and went upstairs. She came back down to let Paul Anka in, and to make two cups of hot chocolate. She carried the mugs to Rory's room, where Lorelai expected to find her daughter in the twilight zone of sleep on her bed. Instead, Rory was at her desk, her face illuminated by the white glow of her laptop.

Lorelai set Rory's mug down on the desk. Rory mindlessly picked it up and drank, but then violently spit the liquid back into the cup. "What is this?" she asked in horror.

"Hot cocoa. Sorry, no coffee before pre-wedding bedtime. What are you doing on that computer of yours? You should be sleeping."

"I will be. I just had to double check my list."

Lorelai's eyes went wide. She put her mug down, grabbed Rory's shoulders, wheeled her chair out from under the desk, and closed the lid of the laptop.

"Mom!" Rory shouted, trying desperately to get back to her computer.

Lorelai stood in her way. "Rory, just go to sleep. Tomorrow is a really big day."

"Fine," she grumbled. She crawled under the covers. She sat there a minute as Lorelai pushed the chair back under the desk. She sat down next to Rory on the bed.

Suddenly, Rory jumped out of bed again. "Oh my god! I forgot my dress at our apartment. Mom, we have to go get it!"

"RORY! Relax. The dress is in the closet in the hall, the shoes are there, too. Your bouquet is sitting in a vase on the coffee table and your vows are right next to you. Everything is under control."

"Okay, you're right. I'm just nervous, am I allowed to be nervous?" asked Rory as she got back into her bed.

"Yes. _I'd_ be nervous if you _weren't_ nervous. It's totally normal."

"Okay." Rory took a deep breath. "So…"

"So… I don't know if I'm supposed to impart some great wisdom on you or something like that. I don't exactly have expertise in the 'getting married' department."

"True. You freaked out the night before you were supposed to marry Max. And you and Dad…well there were a bunch of failed attempts," said Rory wryly.

"Okay, okay lets not dwell on my love life. The point is you _are_ getting married tomorrow."

"Yeah…" Said Rory breathlessly. Lorelai brought the comforter to her daughter's chin. "Mom, you don't have to tuck me in," Rory said.

"I know. But tomorrow you won't be my little girl anymore. Tonight, I can still pretend that you're eight and want to be tucked in." Lorelai smoothed out the covers over her daughter's leg.

"You're not gonna go all _Terms of Endearment_ on me, are you?" Rory asked.

"No. Logan is a _much_ better man than Flap Horton."

"I'm glad you think so," said Rory.

There was silence as Lorelai took in the sight of her daughter on the eve of her wedding. "I love ya kid," she said. She picked up Rory's mug and her own and went to turn out the light.

"I love you too mom," Rory said as she slid down into her bed and drifted off to sleep.


	10. For Better or Worse

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

**A/N: Okay, so I had some extra time so I thought I'd upload this one. Here it is, the much awaited wedding chapter. I have been to exactly one wedding in my lifetime, and that was when I was seven. I was a flower girl. So I have little recollection of the event, and had to improvise a lot of material. I looked up traditional vows, but the rest of it is all my creation. I hope you enjoy. Happy reading!**

* * *

Luke got up at five thirty. He had not woken up when it was dark outside in a few months. He guessed it had something to do with him being back in his apartment, without Lorelai beside him. He tried to lie in bed and fall back asleep, but he only managed to pass the time for half an hour before he violently kicked the covers off himself. He went downstairs. The diner was closed today, since the whole town was going to the wedding. Luke watched TV for a while, not wanting to wake Logan. Around seven, he went back upstairs to shower and make breakfast.

Luke was sitting at the table eating fruit salad and drinking tea. He made coffee just in case Logan wanted some. He wasn't sure what he preferred. Logan woke up at seven thirty and put on a change of clothes. When Luke heard the bathroom door open, he quickly grabbed a newspaper and pretended to read, wanting to stall for time in order to think of something to say to Logan on the morning of his wedding.

"Good morning," said Logan with a smile on his face.

"Hey," said Luke, folding the paper. "Sleep okay?"

"Great," said Logan.

"Please, sit down," said Luke.

"Actually, I'm not all that hungry."

"Logan, you should eat," said Luke. He pushed his chair back and went to the stove. He turned around to face Logan, who was still standing. "Sit," said Luke. Logan didn't have to be asked twice. "So what'll it be? Pancakes? Omelet?"

"I'll take an omelet, and the fruit salad," said Logan, not really sure he would be able to eat with all the butterflies in his stomach.

"Coffee?" asked Luke.

"Tea. Earl Grey if you have it," he replied, suddenly remembering how much his mother liked that flavor. His father would have taken coffee, black. For a moment, Logan was angry. He couldn't believe after all he and his dad had been through, that Mitchum had had the nerve not to show up the night before. However, Logan let the feeling dissipate. It was not worth the aggravation, especially today. As Luke prepared the food, Logan picked up the discarded newspaper. The headlines of the business section were ranting about HPG and the divorce. Logan was immune to the publicity, as was his family. It had ceased to affect them long ago. But seeing pictures of his father and mother in the paper, pictures from better days, he couldn't help but long for their presence on the most important day of his life.

Luke set the food down in front of Logan, and he ate it quickly. He immersed himself in the act of doing it, not wanting to dwell on the "what if" questions regarding his parents. His conversation with Honor was playing a loop through his head, "y_ou and Rory—that's all you should care about. That's your_ real_ family."_

Luke cleaned as Logan ate. He shaved and got his and Logan's garment bags ready. Logan put his dishes away and took a shower. He threw his clothes into a duffel bag Luke lent him, and they were out the door, on their way to Hartford by eight a.m.

* * *

Lorelai crept into Rory's room at seven. Even Lorelai had gotten up early in anticipation of the day. Somehow, Rory had managed to remain in a blissful state of sleep. Lorelai sat gingerly on the bed and waited for Rory to sense her presence, as she knew she would. A few moments later, Rory blinked her eyes open, narrowed them at her mother, stretched, and yawned.

"Morning sleepy head," said Lorelai quietly, as if talking to a newborn baby.

"Hey Mom," she said as she sat up, still groggy. She woke up a little more and glanced at the clock next to her bed. Then all hell broke loose. "MOM! We have to leave in an hour!" Rory jumped out of bed and started hurrying around her room like a chicken with its head cut off.

"Rory, everything is ready—except for you. So just take a deep breath and relax." Rory stopped and breathed in and out a few times.

"Okay, good," Lorelai coached. "Now just put on some clothes, you're changing at the club."

"Okay, okay. Now shoo!" said Rory, waving her mother out the door.

"I'm going, I'm going," Lorelai said. She stopped just before the door was fully closed and stuck her head back in. "Hey," she said to Rory, who was fumbling around in her closet. She snapped her head towards her mother. "You're getting married today," Lorelai said, a smile wide on her face.

Rory smiled back, almost giddy. "I'm getting _married_ today," she said.

Lorelai closed the door and hurried up the stairs to get ready.

* * *

Richard Gilmore awoke at seven thirty and went through his usual morning routine. His wife had been at the club for god knows how long, marshaling the staff to make sure that not even a flower petal was out of place. Richard stood in front of the mirror, squinting as he tried to get his bowtie just right. He gave up and resolved to have Emily fix it when he went to the club. But first, he had one last piece of business to take care of. He left the house and drove to the hotel at which Mitchum Huntzberger was staying.

He had the valet take care of his car, and with a few handshakes, he was in the elevator, on the way to room 516, unannounced. He knocked on the white door, accented with gold leaf paint.

"Just a minute," he heard Mitchum call from the interior. Richard waited patiently. "I thought I told you I wasn't ready for the—Richard," said Mitchum as he opened the door. "I was expecting the maid," said Mitchum by way of apology. He did not invite Richard in, but left the door ajar and finished fixing his own tie. Richard took it upon himself to enter.

Richard moved to the window, which looked out onto a golf course. "Beautiful day," he commented.

"It is," said Mitchum, making no effort to further the conversation.

"So Mitchum," started Richard. "I know how your wife—"

"_Ex_-wife," he corrected.

"Yes. I know how your _ex_-wife feels about the marriage, but what about you?"

"I thought you were here to talk to me about money or finances or however you're putting it these days."

"Already forgetting the terms I see," said Richard. "I'll get to that. But I'm asking out of mere curiosity."

"To be honest, I could care less who he marries, as long as he's happy." He perfected his tie and moved on to his hair.

"And yet I seem to remember an incident between you and my granddaughter…something you said to her that muddied the waters between you two."

Mitchum glanced at Richard through the mirror with one arched eyebrow. "There were some words exchanged. I can only speak for myself and not the other members of my family, but I for one have forgotten about all that and am very happy with the match."

Richard nodded pensively, is hands intertwined behind his back as he paced about the room. "Which is why you were not at last night's rehearsal dinner," concluded Richard with a questioning air.

"I was not in attendance due to a private matter, Richard. Was there any real purpose in you coming to talk to me?" said Mitchum, annoyed.

"Yes," he said, cutting to the chase. "You know we've yet to resolve my reservations regarding your, and by extension your son's, finances. I for one _do_ care whom my granddaughter marries, and money is a large part of that consideration, however shallow it sounds."

"Shallow," Mitchum laughed. "Honestly Richard you don't have to apologize for being shallow. I know what it feels like to talk numbers with someone. We prefer to use 'financially concerned.' It comes off less…well less shallow, for lack of a better term."

"Well then as a 'financially concerned' grandfather, I am not about to allow my granddaughter to marry into a life of monetary hardship."

Mitchum stopped straightening his hair. "Richard. This is going to sound disingenuous, but in the past few weeks, I've come to view my life from a vastly different perspective. There has already been so much commotion surrounding this wedding. First, Shira and I get divorced, and then we find out that Rory and Logan may be related, which I now know is not the case. So not allowing Rory to marry Logan because his father's bank accounts are empty is not the best thing for either of them."

"I don't give a damn about _your_ bank accounts, Mitchum. It's the fact that your son's umbilical cord is still attached to them. And now so will my granddaughter's, for the time being."

"Oh Richard I'd thought you'd reasoned it out by now, judging by how late you're confronting me about this. Logan's 'umbilical cord' is not attached to my bank accounts. Yes, his apartment and amenities were financed by me, but when he broke out on his own, he paid me off and they've been living on their own hard-earned wages for six or seven months now."

Richard was stunned, and without showing it, extremely proud, and somewhat relieved. "Well this certainly changes things…" Richard trailed off.

He turned away from watching Mitchum in the mirror to face the bed. The sheets were mussed and wrinkled, and on the bed side table sat a precariously poised stack of newspapers. Black and white clippings littered the floor, appearing as if Freddy Krueger had cut them from the pages. One picture faced upward amidst the rest—a picture of Shira and Mitchum smiling, while a twelve-year-old Logan stood by his father's hip at some corporate event or another. Next to the pile was a half empty bottle of scotch and a mostly empty glass. Mitchum's "absence" from dinner suddenly became clear to Richard.

He turned back to face Mitchum, who had not noticed the path of Richard's wandering eyes. Richard flicked back his sleeve and looked at the time. "Well thank you for informing me of the situation. I'm afraid I've been unnecessarily hostile towards you these past few weeks. I hope in time you'll be able to forgive my actions—for Rory and Logan's sake," said Richard.

"You're welcome," said Mitchum, picking a piece of lint from his suit sleeve. "Don't worry yourself over how you've acted. I think we're more than even, given our history."

"That's generous of you," said Richard. "I should be going."

"See you in a bit," said Mitchum with a note of somber finality in his voice.

When Richard stepped into the hall and closed the door, he marveled at how surprisingly civil that conversation had been. Mitchum had looked more tired and worn out than usual. He truly looked older. He had seemed too weary to put up the usual fight that Richard had grown so accustomed to. Perhaps Mitchum was actually sincere. Maybe a little financial difficulty had done wonders for his personality. Or at least Richard hoped so.

* * *

Shira hadn't even called Emily Gilmore after receiving the paternity test and note. At first it was because she was angry, but then it was because Emily had been right. Being a Huntzberger was not even comparable to being a Gilmore. Lately, Shira had felt only remorse for how she had conducted herself in the presence of others, all because she had thought she was above them. She was only just beginning to realize how false that notion was. She had gotten so absorbed in her own problems that she had scarcely been there for her son while he was planning his wedding. She had let Emily take over, simply because it was one more thing she didn't have to deal with amidst all her other issues. But now she regretted not taking a more active role, and today, she wanted to remedy that.

Shira was up at the crack of dawn. She had guessed that Emily would already be at the club, which was confirmed when Shira walked in at seven and saw Emily directing the scene around her like a conductor and her symphony.

Emily had not heard the echo of Shira's heels against the floor when she entered. Rather, she noticed the absence of sound when it ceased to exist. Emily turned slightly, ignoring a confused waitress who was holding a heavy stack of china, waiting for Emily's direction on where to put it. "Shira," she said, pretending not to be extremely shocked by her presence. "We thought you weren't coming."

"Of course I came. Why wouldn't I attend my son's wedding?"

"Where is my head? I must have forgotten that when family pulls a disappearing act, and does not show up at the rehearsal dinner that it is no longer automatic cause for such irrational thinking. Daphne, make sure there is an extra place setting for the mother of the groom at table one, and for god's sake, stop shaking. _You're_ not getting married today—or possibly ever," Emily shouted at the waitress, who was relieved to finally be given an order that would allow her to put the plates down.

"My absence last night was due to a private matter."

"Hmph," said Emily, hardly acknowledging the words. She was far too absorbed in making sure the day went perfectly.

Shira looked around the room. "You've done a beautiful job, Emily."

Emily stopped folding a napkin on a table. She was sure she had not just heard Shira Huntzberger give her a compliment. "No thanks to you," she replied in a clipped tone, not wanting to show any amount of gratitude.

"I apologize for that. I remember planning Honor's wedding. It was a big enough job with two mothers, I can't imagine how you did it all by yourself," said Shira, genuinely complimenting Emily.

"Well Lorelai and Rory were a big help. And Honor. That girl should consider a career in party planning. She was wonderful." Emily hoped that by complimenting Shira's daughter, she could be polite and avoid thanking Shira directly.

"She's definitely made for it," said Shira walking slowly around the table Emily was helping to set, fingering the tablecloth. She stopped, directly opposite of Emily. "Emily, I was wondering if I could ask a question," Shira said timidly. Emily looked up at her. "Would it…would it be too much to ask if you let me help you today? I want to make it up to Logan and Rory for not being a part of the wedding. And to you. Please?" she asked.

How could Emily deny such a frank plea? She smiled and said, "Of course. That would be wonderful."

Shira smiled and dropped her clutch on the dining chair. "What can I do?"

* * *

Richard walked into the club and marveled at his wife's handiwork that was already present at the entrance. He caught sight of an old friend who was just leaving the bar area.

"Richard, what are you doing here?" the man called out.

"Actually, my granddaughter is getting married today."

"Oh. I'm sure that's why Emily has cordoned off the ballroom," he said laughing.

"Indeed it is," said Richard smiling at the thought of how his wife must look right now.

"Give Rory and Emily my best. It was good to see you. You should play golf with us next weekend, we're looking for a fourth."

"That would be splendid. I'll give you a call," said Richard. His friend left and Richard entered the ballroom, half expecting to see Emily standing on a table with a megaphone. What he saw instead was far more surprising.

"Shira, did you tell the florist to place the centerpieces here?" asked Emily.

"No I didn't," said Shira off-handedly. She was bent over a clipboard with a waiter, making a small change to the seating chart. Emily proceeded to rebuke the florist who claimed that she had been given instructions to put the centerpieces in the corner until the tables were ready.

Richard approached Emily from behind. "It looks beautiful Emily," he said.

"Richard, when did you get here?" she asked, pleasantly surprised.

"I've only just arrived, dear. What is Shira doing here?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Don't worry. Her and I had a little chat. I daresay she won't be giving us so much aggravation in the future." Emily turned to gesture across the room, showing the band where to set up and then turned back to her husband.

"Oh my," she gasped.

"What is it?" asked Richard, alarmed.

"Your bowtie. It's done all wrong."

Richard smiled. "I meant to ask you to fix it for me." When she was done, Richard gave Shira a cordial hello, but she too had become wrapped up in the festivities and absent-mindedly returned it.

"Emily I'm going to wait for the groomsmen in the men's lounge."

"That's fine," she said, waving him off. He chuckled at his wife's antics, but smiled at the fact that she had never been more in her element.

* * *

A short time later, the wedding party began to arrive. Colin and Finn joined Richard in the lounge, along with Doyle, Josh, and Zach. Colin and Finn were still busy working on the best men speech. Richard kept Zach, Josh and especially Doyle occupied, talking about Yale. Rory, Lorelai, Lane, and Honor arrived all at the same time. They marveled at the room, but Emily ushered them into the bridal suite, insisting they start to dress Rory. Paris joined them as well.

"Are you almost ready?" Paris called out impatiently. She and Honor had been sitting drinking champagne while Lorelai and Lane helped Rory in the bathroom.

"We're coming!" shouted Lorelai. It sounded like she was wrestling with tulle. Lane opened the door and stepped out, with Lorelai close behind.

"Okay, on three," they shouted to Rory.

"One, two," they said in unison. "Three!"

Rory opened the door, stepped out, and moved to the mirror. Everyone gasped in admiration.

"Rory…" Honor said breathlessly.

"Rory, you look absolutely beautiful," said Paris matter-of-factly, not one to show emotion.

"Thank you Paris. That means a lot. Especially from you." Everyone laughed. Paris downed her champagne. Rory looked at herself in the mirror. Her pale complexion was masked slightly with a light foundation, and her cheeks were dusted with a rose coloring. Her eyes spoke for themselves, a piercing ice blue. The dress was simple yet elegant. A thin layer of tulle cushioned the satin material. Lane's handiwork of pearls at the tip of the bodice shone brilliantly. The dress was strapless, and fit Rory snuggly at the top. It traced its way seamlessly to the floor, the satin and tulle mingling together to form the perfect amount of excess fabric to drape her feet. Lorelai's chin came to rest on Rory's right shoulder. Rory turned to her. "Mom…it's so perfect. Thank you." She gave her mother a hug as Lorelai suppressed her tears. _It's too early for crying. It's too early for crying_ she coached herself. A knock on the door caused Rory to break away and gave her mother a chance to wipe her tears.

"May I come in?" asked Emily.

"Of course grandma," Rory called. Emily counted to three and opened the door slowly, not knowing how seeing her granddaughter in her wedding dress was going to affect her. Rory smoothed the bottom of the dress out. Emily opened the door fully to find her granddaughter to be a vision in white. She stopped in the doorway. It was silent, everyone waiting for the great Emily Gilmore to weigh in. Almost instantly, Emily broke down. Lorelai ran to her aid and guided her to the couch where Honor and Paris parted like the Red Sea to allow Emily to sit.

After a few minutes of Emily trying to control her emotions, Rory said, "Is it really that bad?" which was met with a small chorus of laughter.

Emily blotted her eyes with a Kleenex. "No," she said. "You're stunning. Logan is going to drop dead at the altar."

"I hope not," said Lorelai.

Emily turned to face her. "You've got quite a talent, Lorelai."

Although her and her mother had been getting along better, relatively speaking, Lorelai still felt uncomfortable when given a compliment by her mother. "Well it wasn't _all_ me. Lane and Rory played a hand in it."

"Oh no Mrs. Gilmore," Lane said, standing up. "All I did was help Rory collect pictures from magazines and sew on the pearls. The rest was all Lorelai."

The girls proceeded to gush over Rory, just as a bride should be gushed over. Emily left to check up on the preparations.

"Rory, I'm gonna go see if your dad got here okay."

"Okay," said Rory, turning back to her conversation. Lane excused herself to call the babysitter in order to check up on her twins, leaving Honor and Paris to catch up with Rory. Another knock on the door interrupted them.

"It's open," shouted Rory. She was sitting on a futon, her back to the door, facing Paris and Honor on the couch. Honor looked like she was going to choke on her champagne when the door opened.

"Mom…" she said.

Rory's face blanched as she stood up and turned around to face Shira.

"Hello girls. Do you mind if I have a moment alone with Rory?"

"Not at all," said Paris. Her and Honor left the room and closed the door quietly, Paris mouthing something incomprehensible as she left. Rory was watching Shira too intensely to notice as she stood in the middle of the room awkwardly, feeling as if Shira were going to circle around her and inspect every inch of her body. However, Shira merely crossed the room and sat down in a high back chair.

"Sit, Rory. This isn't an inspection." Rory did as she was told and took her seat on the futon.

"You look beautiful. Where did you buy your dress?"

"Actually, my mom made it," said Rory sheepishly.

"Hm. I may have to ask her to design my outfit for my next function."

Rory smiled and shrugged. Finally, she thought of something to say. "I saw you helping my grandmother out there. Thanks so much for stepping in, she was stressing us all out."

"I'm happy to help. It's the least I can do for you. You've made my son a very happy man, Rory Gilmore. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" questioned Rory, her heart pounding. Shira wasn't about to drop some life-altering bombshell on her, hours before her wedding, was she?

"I know you and I have had our…differences in the past. I haven't always acted kindly towards you, and I know an apology now would be too little too late. But I just want you to know that I am happy that my son found someone like you. He is an incredibly lucky man," Shira finished.

"I think so," said Rory, exercising her humor.

Shira laughed, much to Rory's relief. "Well that's all. I'll let you get back to your friends." She got up and made to leave.

"Wait," Rory said. "I'd like you to stay for a little while, if my grandmother will let us steal you away. You should meet Lane and Paris, I think you'll like them."

Shira smiled slightly. "I'd like that."

Rory went to get Honor and Paris who had been pressing their ears to the door.

"You guys can come back in now." She opened the door and the two scurried in, their faces red with embarrassment.

* * *

Logan and Luke had arrived just after Rory and Lorelai. The two changed in the bathroom after complimenting Emily on the room. Logan had not seen his mother, since she had gone to the bathroom. They were all talking in the men's lounge when Lorelai knocked on the door. Luke answered it.

"Hey, you're here. How's Logan?" she asked. Luke stepped back and Logan gave Lorelai a slight wave. She smiled at him, and Luke blocked the entry again. "Is Chris in here? He hasn't called me yet, I just wanted to make sure his flight got in."

"Nope. Do you want me to go look for him?" asked Luke, silently hopeful that if Chris pulled a no-show, he'd get to walk Rory down the aisle.

"No, stay here. I'm gonna go call him outside, see if I get better service."

"Okay," he said, placing a kiss on her lips. She smiled at him and disappeared down the hallway. Luke closed the door, and Logan excused himself to use the bathroom. When he stepped into the hallway, he saw his mother making her way towards the bridal suite.

"Mom," he called out. She stopped and turned to face Logan. He walked slowly towards her. "I didn't know if you were coming," he said, facing her with his hands clasped in front of him. His tone was stern.

"Logan, I'm sorry about last night. I'm sorry about these past few weeks. They've been—"

"Crazy?" he finished. "I know. Now, imagine dealing with a divorce, and _two_ disappearing parents, weeks before your wedding. You know what that feels like? Because I sure as hell do."

"I can't fathom it. Trust me, I didn't plan this on purpose, obviously. My absence last night was inexcusable. I wasn't sure that I was ready to face your father. I thought it would only be fair to you and Rory if I didn't come and avoided a big show. At least today I know he'll be somewhat more restrained."

"Well Dad didn't come either. But, hey don't worry about it. It would have been nice to have some comforting guidance from my parents, but I'm sure there will be plenty more rehearsal dinners to redeem yourself," he said sarcastically.

"I can only say I'm sorry so many times, Logan. I'm here now, and I was on my way to talk to Rory."

"Don't," he said. "The last thing she needs is ridicule."

"I wasn't going to ridicule her. I was going to talk to her about how happy I am that you met her." Logan was stunned. He narrowed his eyes disbelievingly at his mother, but she recovered before he could object. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything. Go back to Colin and Finn and the boys. I'll see you later."

* * *

Logan watched his mother until she entered the bridal suite. He went to the bathroom and rejoined his pre-wedding party. Fifteen minutes later, Luke opened the door again. He seemed to be playing doorman today. There was a short, muffled exchange of words, and then Luke stepped aside to let Christopher in. The banter ceased when he entered.

"Come on boys, it's the father of the bride," said Finn. They followed him out of the room to let Chris talk with Logan alone.

"Mr. Hayden. I'm glad you made it, we were starting to worry," said Logan calmly, although he was scared to death of having a heart to heart with Rory's father.

"The airport was crazy. Mind if I sit?" he asked Logan.

"Be my guest," he said. Chris took the leather couch and Logan took a chair. He was holding a highball glass with a clear liquid and a few ice cubes floating at the top. Chris eyed it and, being polite, Logan asked, "Would you like a drink?"

"No. And I'm not sure you should be having one now either."

"Oh this is just club soda," said Logan. Obviously Chris was wearing his "overprotective father" hat today, although according to Rory, he hadn't been around much. Chris nodded. "Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you. I'm just nervous," said Chris.

"That makes two of us," said Logan, setting his glass down on a coaster. For some reason, Chris took note of this.

"So I know I'm the father of the bride and yet you and I have only met once or twice. I don't really uh…know too much about you—"

"What do you want to know?" said Logan, flashing his patented smile.

"Oh, no it's not that. I'm just saying that I don't know you too well, but Rory's told me about you when we talk on the phone. And as far as I'm concerned, she loves you, you love her and that's enough for me—Huntzberger financial/marital problems aside," he concluded.

"Ah, so Rory's informed you."

"Yeah. Family drama. Been there, done that," Chris said. Logan nodded in agreement.

"Well, thank you for your blessing. I love your daughter Mr. Hayden—"

"Call me Chris," he said. He would have said, "Call me Dad," but he didn't think he was quite ready for that.

"Okay Chris. I love Rory, and I am going to take care of her. As for getting to know me, I'm sure that will come in time. We'll come visit you in Boston, and Rory's been telling me that you've been wanting to come to Connecticut more often."

Chris nodded and remained silent. Logan did too, waiting for Chris to resume speaking. "Sorry I've been so quiet. It's just new for me, doing all the things a dad is supposed to do."

"Well, about not coming to you before I asked Rory to marry me—I'm sorry. It's just Rory and Lorelai, and you know if you had been in Connecticut I would have asked you first, but—"

"Logan. It's okay. Even if I had been around, Lorelai deserved that honor more than anyone. I've never been a real dad to Rory. As much as I hate to admit it, that's always been Luke, I guess. You did the right thing. I'll always remember that."

"Thank you sir," said Logan humbly.

"So listen, I look forward to coming to see you guys more often," Chris said. He stood up and Logan stood to shake his hand.

"It'll be good once everything settles down," said Logan, referring to his own family's problems.

"I'll see you later Logan. Oh, have you seen Richard?" asked Chris.

"Can't say that I have. I think I missed him. He left just before I came to find Colin and Finn."

"Right. I gotta go find him. Thanks," Chris said as he left.

* * *

Logan's buddies filtered back into the room, resuming conversation as if the interruption had not occurred. Logan remained sitting, not exactly fully present. He kept his eyes trained on the floor. He had spoken with his mom and Rory's dad, and practically everyone else but his own father.

"Yes!" Colin shouted out. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Colin and Finn. "It's done! The endless, torturous speech is done!" said Colin, somewhat melodramatically. Logan smiled.

"Ha ha!" Finn cried. He threw the door open and proceeded to parade the news down the hallway. The guys followed, getting in on the fun. Logan was left to his thoughts.

* * *

He started getting nervous about half an hour before the wedding was to start. He was trying to remember what guys said about this moment. He tried to remember _why_ they got nervous. Most of the time it was because the magnitude of the event hit them—they were getting _married_. They were going to be committed to one person for the rest of their life, and that scared a lot of guys. But, although Logan still had a flutter in his stomach and his palms were sweaty, he could not say it was because he was afraid of committing. In that respect, he had been married to Rory for a long time. He decided it was not nervousness but excitement that was plaguing him at the moment. He went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face, and Richard came out of the stall. They hadn't spoken since the drunken dinner.

"Logan," Richard greeted as he made his way to the sink to wash his hands.

"Hello Mr. Gilmore," Logan said, not meeting Richard's eyes. "I think Rory's dad was looking for you."

"Yes, he just spoke to me. But I was hoping to speak with you," he said.

_Oh boy_, thought Logan. _Here it come_s."What about sir?" he asked.

"I uh had a chat with your father earlier," said Richard, balling up his paper towel and tossing it into the garbage can.

"Is he here?" asked Logan.

"Not yet. I went to his hotel room," said Richard.

_Not _yet, thought Logan._ That implies he_ will_ be coming_.

"About anything important?" Logan asked, throwing out his own paper towel.

"Yes. I'm sure you're aware of the concerns I've had as of late regarding the financial state of affairs between you and Rory," he said.

"As you should have. It would only be natural for a grandfather," said Logan politely.

"That's quite humble of you, but I was afraid that your father's issues were going to severely affect your own. I seem to have trouble thinking of you as someone other than a seventeen-year-old boy who lives off his trust fund. I hadn't realized how far you'd come in the business world, and how successful you've become, relatively speaking. I commend you on that, and I have freed myself of any doubts I may have had going into this wedding."

"I appreciate that Richard," said Logan. He stuck his hand out, as did Richard, but Richard leaned in as if to hug Logan. It wound up as a half-hand shake/pat on the back, but it made Logan smile. He was making progress. Richard left the bathroom, and Logan returned to the men's lounge. Colin and Finn were in the hall.

"Mate, we've been looking all over for you," said Finn.

"Well, here I am. What's up?"

"Well…I'm not sure how you're going to feel about this, but your…dad is waiting for you in there," said Colin, pointing at the door. Logan's face fell into his hand. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Okay guys. I have to talk to him. Just wait out here, and if it gets loud, come in and make sure I'm not about to punch him."

"Got it, Mate," said Finn with a salute.

Logan's hand rested on the brass doorknob. He braced himself and opened the door. Mitchum was sitting casually on the leather couch.

"Well, you look a hell of a lot better than the last time we met," Logan said, trying to keep it light.

"Yes," said Mitchum quietly. He stood up, and Logan swallowed hard. He kept his hands at his side.

"Logan, last night—"

"Don't," said Logan. "Just don't bring it up. I don't know what I'll do if we start to talk about that. So for your sake, _don't_ bring it up."

"Fine," Mitchum said, holding his hands up to remain passive. "I should have been there and I'm sorry. Whatever I was going to say, what I _should_ have said last night, I'll try to say now. You're a better man than me Logan. While you were growing up, I distanced myself. I figured that if I worked more and saw you less, maybe no one would attribute your wild antics to my parenting or business or whatever. But I realize how stupid that was. Maybe we could have had a better relationship now if I had been a better dad. But every time I think that, I try not to. Because if I had been around more, maybe you would have picked up more of my traits, and that would not have been better. The man you are today, that is more than I could have asked for in a son. You're smart, successful, in love—all the things I'm not. You could probably teach _me _a few things."

Logan was silent, too angry to respond.

Mitchum nodded, understanding his son's inability to say anything. "Okay. You have every right to be mad. You did the right thing by confronting me yesterday. As for not being there last night, I have no excuse. No good excuse, not an excuse you'd want to hear. So I'll leave it at that. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Logan let him go without saying a word. When Mitchum closed the door, Colin came in.

"No blood I see," he said, surveying the carpet.

"Nope," said Logan.

"You okay?" asked Colin.

"Yeah," Logan said, looking up at Colin. "I'll be fine. We'll be fine."

Colin nodded.

"Hey, sorry to break up the comfort fest or whatever, but a particularly bossy woman with Sheila hair just told me that Logan needs to be heading into the ballroom now," Finn chimed in.

"Emily," said Logan and Colin simultaneously. Logan shook his head and Colin ushered him out of the room.

"This is it, Mate," said Finn as the three walked down the hall and turned the corner.

"Okay. Vows?" asked Colin.

"Check," said Logan.

"Rings?" asked Colin.

"Check," said Finn, as it was his job to hold them.

"Flower?"

"Ch—no check," said Logan.

"Check," said Finn as he pulled the white rose out of his breast pocket and fastened it to Logan's.

"Let's go," said Colin. The three entered the ballroom from a side door. All the guests were taking their seats.

"Okay, we have to go join the procession. Good luck," Colin said. He gave Logan a hug and then Finn hugged Logan.

"Thanks guys," he said.

They both turned to him and said in unison, "In omnia paratus."

Logan smiled and watched the door close behind them.

* * *

It was just Lorelai and Rory in the bridal suite. Everyone else had left to join the line-up. Lorelai fixed Rory's veil over her eyes.

"Okay," she said, her voice shaky with the effort of withholding tears.

"Mom, now you're going to make me cry," said Rory, catching a teardrop before it fell from her eye.

"I'm sorry. You'll know when you have kids how hard this is. And I'm not just losing a daughter, I'm losing my best friend too. Just don't tell Sookie."

Rory smiled. "I won't. But you're not losing me. Our relationship isn't going to change."

Lorelai smiled weakly and tucked a strand of hair behind Rory's ear. "You say that. But there will be times when the only person you can talk to is Logan. And I'm okay with that. You don't have to feel bad when those moments happen, it's just part of growing up."

"Okay," Rory said, looking at the floor.

"I remember when you were little. You used to dress up like a bride and pick some of Babette's flowers and pretend you were the flower girl in my wedding. You always used to think that your dad and I would get married someday, and just in case, you wanted to be prepared." Lorelai smiled at the memory.

Rory couldn't tell if her childhood innocence was making her mother smile or if the smile was masking some inner pain—confliction over whether or not she should have stayed with Christopher, or over the fact that she was not yet married, and her daughter was about to be. "Is it weird that I'm getting married before you?" Rory asked timidly.

"No sweetheart. Not in the slightest. I'm so utterly happy for, I—" Lorelai strained to stifle her tears. "I just…I love you. Remember that."

"Everyday," Rory said.

Lorelai picked up her flowers and handed Rory her bouquet. "Let's go kid."

* * *

Lorelai walked Rory to the back of the procession. April, Luke's daughter, was standing hidden from view with a clipboard, directing the traffic. Emily had ceded this portion of her duties, so that she could witness the wedding from the same vantage point as everyone else. April opened the heavy, wooden double doors. "Everyone ready?" she asked. A chorus of "yes" followed. April turned around and gestured across the room, signaling the beginning of the music.

The doors opened and Colin and Finn started down the aisle, arm in arm, skipping along. The two elicited many laughs from the audience. Paris and Doyle were next to move down the aisle. Close behind were Honor and Josh and then Lane and Zach. Doyle and Zach took their seats. Lorelai and Luke made a solo appearance, the only couple to walk down the aisle alone, since Lorelai commanded so much respect as mother of the bride and maid of honor. Luke also took his seat, leaving Colin, Finn, and Josh at the altar next to Logan, and Lorelai, Lane, Honor, and Paris next to Rory. There were no flower girls or ring bearers.

The music changed to "The Wedding March," and the audience stood up. Logan's gaze fixed on the wooden doors, which had been closed again. He swallowed the lump of excitement in his throat, and surreptitiously smoothed his palms on his suit to rid them of their sweaty layer.

The doors opened and Rory emerged. She walked slowly down the aisle, trying not to cry. Chris was holding her arm tightly. The whole of Stars Hollow could be heard blubbering, especially Miss Patty, although it was hard to tell if she was upset because Logan was taken or because her little Rory was getting married. Rory surveyed the crowd, catching the eyes of many a familiar face. Finally, she focused on Logan, who had never looked happier. He had not been shocked when she entered. He already knew she was beautiful. The occasion only confirmed it. Before she knew it, she was facing her father. He lifted her veil and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Love you too," she whispered back. Logan stepped down from the altar to guide Rory up the stairs. Once everyone was seated, the minister began.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he started. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the marriage of Lorelai Leigh Gilmore and Logan Elias Huntzberger. Rory and Logan…" he proceeded in the traditional manner, but Logan and Rory were engrossed in their own conversation, using their eyes instead of their mouths. They broke only when the minister said, "And now, Rory and Logan would like to read each other their vows. Rory…"

Rory turned to her mother who handed her a little folded piece of paper. As she opened it, her hand shook a little. She sniffed back tears. "Logan, I'm supposed to say it was love at first sight. And now that I look back on the moment we met, in front of a coffee cart of all the apropos places, I can honestly say it was. But I didn't _know_ it then. You were the most arrogant person I had ever met, and yet the most honest, fun, kind, and smart person at the same time. I have never met someone who is so much my equal, as well as my opposite." She stopped to catch the look on his face. He couldn't believe his ears. He had thought those exact words when he proposed to Rory. "Ever since I said, 'a once in a life time experience,' and you replied, 'only if you want it to be,' I've known that I _don't_ want it to be. I want a thousand once-in-a-lifetime experiences, and I want them all with you. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will continue to love you for the rest of my life." She handed the paper to Lorelai. Logan smiled so wide his face hurt. A murmur from the crowd prompted the minister.

"Logan…" he said.

Logan reached into his breast pocket for the vows he had written. "Ace…Rory, it didn't take much more than a cup of coffee and a newspaper to make me love you. From the moment I read your first piece in the Yale Daily News, I knew that I needed to meet the person who had written it. It was frank, the most honest thing I had ever read. It was funny and poignant, and all the things you are. But the person behind the words, as I found out, was so much better. And if it hadn't been for a girl in a gorilla suit, maybe you and I would never have had that weekend in the woods. But we did. And just like then, we're standing on the scaffolding, holding hands, ready to jump off into the world—together. I don't know which one of us is going to change the light bulbs, since we both have an aversion to ladders, but I know that whatever it is that we have to face, this will always be true: 'You jump, I jump Jack.'" He handed his paper to Colin. The audience found themselves clapping and crying.

"Thank you Logan," the minister said when the clapping died down. "Now please, repeat after me. 'I Logan,'"

"I Logan,"

"Take thee Lorelai to be my wedded wife,"

"Take thee Lorelai to be my wedded wife,"

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse; for richer for poorer,"

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse; for richer for poorer,"

"In sickness and in health; to love and to cherish; till death us do part."

"In sickness and in health; to love and to cherish; till death us do part."

"Rory, repeat after me. 'I Lorelai,'"

"I Lorelai,"

"Take thee Logan to be my wedded husband,"

"Take thee Logan to be my wedded husband,"

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse; for richer for poorer,"

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse; for richer for poorer,"

"In sickness and in health; to love and to cherish; till death us do part."

"In sickness and in health; to love and to cherish; till death us do part."

"And now, the rings," the minister said. Finn handed the minister Logan's thick gold band, and Rory's thinner silver one.

"Logan, take this ring and repeat after me. 'With this ring I thee wed,"

"With this ring I thee wed,"

"With my body I thee honor,"

"With my body I thee honor,"

"And all my worldly goods with thee I share."

"And all my worldly goods with thee I share." Logan slid the band onto Rory's slender finger and smiled at her.

"And Rory, take this ring and repeat after me. 'With this ring I thee wed,"

"With this ring I thee wed,"

"With my body I thee honor,"

"With my body I thee honor,"

"And all my worldly goods with thee I share."

"And all my worldly goods with thee I share." She put Logan's gold ring on his left finger. It seemed that the audience breathed a sigh of relief.

"By the power invested in me by the state of Connecticut, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride," the minister said to Logan. There were cheers from the audience as Logan lifted Rory's veil and kissed her.

"I love you," he said, practically crying in her ear.

"I love you too," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. Emily cried out from the audience and Richard pulled out his handkerchief and comforted her.

Luke was watching, trying not to cry in true Luke Danes fashion. He looked to his left. Chris was sitting there, in a similar state. At that moment, he knew that one day, he wanted to be in Chris' position, crying as he watched his own daughter or son get married. He wanted that for April. He wanted that for his child—one day, his child with Lorelai.

Rory and Logan held hands and turned to face their loved ones. They stepped down from the altar and walked down the aisle, into the reception room. The happy couple failed to notice Shira, who was struggling to keep it together, in the third to last row, last seat to the right. Mitchum was the only one who seemed to notice her distress, as he was leaning against the wall in the back, having gotten there late. He also noticed that any desire he may have had to comfort her had ceased to exist long ago.

When Rory and Logan went through the double doors, there was silence for a moment, before the craziness started. They looked at each other. "You jump, I jump Jack," Logan said to Rory once more. He kissed her again, just as the crowd came barging through the doors.

* * *

**A/N 2: So...what'd you guys think? Reviews are always welcome! **


	11. Receptions Form Perceptions

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I have officially had over 2000 unique visitors to this story in a little less than a month. Your reception has been truly more than I could have asked for as a writer, and I thank you all so, so much!** **Happy reading!**

* * *

To see Stars Hollow residents mingle with the high society guests of Hartford was an interesting sight. Stars Hollow didn't care of course, but they did receive a number of looks from the Hartford community. Everyone had a few drinks in them when the cocktail hour ended, and then the differences in lifestyles became far less pronounced.

Rory had changed into a dress made of the same satin material, one that was just less cumbersome than her actual wedding dress. The music was a constant pulse for the duration of the evening, even while the guests were enjoying dinner. Sookie catered the event, and was sitting on a chair in the kitchen, giving orders as head chef, since her leg was still in a boot.

The guests took their time with the meal, except Lorelai who ate quickly and then slipped into the kitchen during a lull to check on Sookie. "Sookie, you've outdone yourself," said Lorelai.

"I know," she said. "I'm exhausted."

"Well why don't you come sit next to Jackson and let the waiters take over for dessert."

"No! What if something goes wrong? Like if the soufflés collapse or the pastries burn? I can't leave this spot until the cake is cut," she said emphatically.

"Okay," said Lorelai, backing off. "Rory just said she wants you to enjoy this night as much as she is."

"Rory's a sweet girl. Did you see her up there at the service? She was so beautiful and poised…" Sookie said with a far-off look in her eye.

"She always has been. Okay, I just came to check on you. Make sure you get out of this kitchen at some point," she said as she left.

"Yes ma'am," replied Sookie, as she surveyed the kitchen and weary waiters around her.

When Lorelai emerged from the kitchen, conversation was in full swing, and Logan and Rory were making their rounds as they were supposed to. Lorelai watched as Rory found Mia's table and gave her a long, hard hug. Emily eyed the couple from her seat to make sure they said hello to all the right people. Lorelai took her seat next to Luke and Chris.

Some time later, Sookie was given the honor of wheeling out the cake. It was a massive seven tiers. Sookie had done a beautiful job with the fondant. Light blue fondant covered the cake, and a white layer was situated on top. Holes in the shape of snaking flowers and vines were cut into the white fondant, revealing the blue underneath. Rory and Logan's names were written in black cursive on the front of the top two tiers and underneath that, the date of the wedding: 7/14/07. The gummy fondant was applied to the white cake with butter cream frosting, and the layers had been sandwiched together with chocolate mousse.

That had been Sookie's present to Rory and Logan—she had kept the cake a complete surprise. When she wheeled it out, Rory gave her a hug. "Thank you Sookie. I _love_ it!" Sookie giggled and with a little too much gusto, retrieved the large cake knife and handed it to Logan, who bent backwards slightly to avoid the blade. Rory placed her hand on top of Logan's, and on the count of three, generously pronounced by the crowd, they cut into the creamy confection. Sookie helped them extract two slivers of cake and handed them each a fork. Logan went to feed Rory her first bite, and when it was Rory's turn, she "missed" and landed some frosting on Logan's nose. He laughed as he moved in to kiss her. She helped him clean off the frosting.

Sookie's team passed around the cake, saving the tier with the date on it for Rory and Logan to take home. She sat down finally while the waiters distributed the other desserts and then Rory and Logan's attention was drawn to the center of the dance floor, where a semi-conscious Colin and fully inebriated Finn were clinking their champagne glasses with forks.

"Fine ladies and gentlemen, may we have your attention for just a moment?" said Colin loudly. The room silenced.

"Brilliant!" Finn said in regards to Colin's ability to elicit quiet.

"Now, as Logan's best men, it is our rite, it is our privilege, it is our _duty_ to give him and Rory, and by extension you lovely people, a proper speech."

"Yes. Now I promised Logan not to mention certain things, but I have had one too many drinks and am therefore not liable for anything I say or have said in the past hour," said Finn. The crowd laughed.

"When we first met Logan, we were in detention at St. Sebastian's," started Colin. "The teacher turned his back for a moment and Logan pulled two rocks out of his pocket. He threw one through the window, and tossed one under the windowsill to make it seem like the rock had come from the outside. When the teacher left the room to see who had deigned to vandalize his classroom, so did we. From that moment, Rory we're sorry to say, it _was_ love at first sight."

"We had found our third musketeer," added Finn.

"And our first mission was to personally attend all seventeen boarding schools in the state of Connecticut before the age of eighteen."

"And I must say with our friend here, we carried out our duties perfectly,"

"More than perfectly Finn! We practiced thievery, robbed the masses—"

"Rescued the dames!" Finn said excitedly.

"I believe Logan may even carry a relic from our finer days—the picture from Headmaster Gratin's desk!"

"Indeed, a mark of his victory. However these were all petty crimes compared to the mischief we were able to partake in at the prestigious Yale University."

"Some might say in going there that we wanted to turn over a new leaf," said Colin, lowering the tone of his voice.

"But not Logan here! He convinced us to stay true to ourselves," said Finn melodramatically. Logan was in tears of laughter.

"And we did. We had truly found our mutual calling when we were called upon to take over the LDB. Now, for the sake of sanctity, I cannot reveal what that acronym stands for, but I will tell you that Logan was the mastermind behind most of its activities, including a one-week sleep out on our yachts,"

"The vaudeville/Phantom of the Opera themed party—"

"In the basement of a church—"

"Complete with ghost-hunting equipment, just in case," finished Colin.

"However," started Finn with a revering tone, "none compared to the event that culminated our four years at Yale—the Costa Rica, parachuting, white water rafting beach party." At the mention of the event that landed her husband in the hospital, Rory gave Logan's hand a squeeze.

"Now Rory, we must be honest. Logan was quite the womanizer. He was accompanied by his fair share of them during these fantastic affairs. He was every man's idol in that respect—that is until he met you."

"That's right. The man returned from the newspaper office one day and he was never the same again. We didn't know what happened to you, Mate. We thought Doyle had slipped you something in your drink. Something that actually made you _like_ the paper," said Finn.

"Yes, a drug by the name of 'Ace.' We didn't like this mysterious 'Ace,' that Logan talked about incessantly, because whoever she was, she was turning him into a loyal, hardworking, respectable citizen," Colin said, half-jokingly.

"But when Logan brought you along to our Safari in the mountains, we have to say that even we were charmed. We saw why he loved you, and we came to love you too. Maybe not at that moment, but Logan had never found someone who would willingly partake in a seven-story jump before you. Colin and I watched from the ground as you flew off the scaffolding, and we saw the look in Logan's eyes—the same one that he wore throughout your wedding ceremony."

"To wrap this up," said Colin, "as Logan's two best friends, we couldn't be happier that he found someone like Rory—the only person that can keep him level-headed and let him have his fun at the same time. Rory is technically only an honorary member of the LDB, but she will always be kin to those who know the true meaning of 'In omnia paratus.'" The onlookers clapped at the end of the boys' speech and Logan and Rory were beaming. Logan got up and hugged Colin and Finn when they returned to the table. Lane made a speech reminiscent of the one Rory made at her wedding, embarrassing details about the boy she thought she would marry and all. Then, Lorelai took that as her cue to take center stage.

"Thank you Colin and Finn for providing me with much-needed information about Logan's past," she said. Her words were met with laughter. "No, in all honesty, I may not have started out as a Huntzberger fan, but seeing Rory with Logan over these past few years changed my mind. Rory went to college as this shy little girl who would have rather had a conversation with Tolstoy than go out on a Friday. But thanks to Logan, she has a new fire in her eyes, a fire fueled with her passion for reading as much as her passion for adventure. And I have to credit Logan for providing the fuel. I'm glad he's a part of the family, and to Rory—you know I love ya kid." She sat down and Logan stood up after giving Lorelai a kiss on the cheek.

"Okay, I'll keep this short. First, thank you Colin and Finn for that little oration and Lorelai and Chris, thank you for allowing me to love your daughter. I know there are a lot of you in attendance tonight that care about Rory just as much as I do. She is truly a special person, and I am so, so lucky to be able to call her my wife. And now Ace, if you would accept this dance?" he finished, handing the microphone to a staff member and extending his arm towards Rory as the music started. Rory had tears in her eyes as Logan pulled her on her feet and spun her into him.

After a few tender minutes of the first dance to "The Book of Love," the music changed and got faster and other couples joined in. Chris danced with Rory, and Logan looked around the room. His mother was sitting placidly in the corner, nursing a drink and surveying the scene.

Logan walked over to her. "Well you can't just leave me hanging out there," he said. Shira was startled, just noticing his presence. "What?" she said in bewilderment.

"Well Rory gets to dance with her dad. Don't I get to dance with my mother?" he said to her.

It took her a moment, but her hardened expression donned a smile. "Of course," she said, allowing her son a dance on his wedding day.

Lorelai had finally convinced Luke to dance, and then she wouldn't let him sit down. He guided her along the edge of the dance floor, keeping a close watch on the crowd. Lorelai noticed that he was actually staring at Chris and Rory.

"Go ahead," she finally said to him.

"Go ahead with what?" he asked her, turning his head to face her for the first time since they started dancing.

"Ask Rory to dance. Chris won't mind."

"What are you—"

"Come on Luke," she said. "I wasn't born yesterday."

Lorelai broke away from him and watched him sheepishly tap Chris on the shoulder. Chris was more than willing to allow Luke a dance. He walked towards Lorelai. When he sidled up next to her, they both watched Rory and Luke for a minute.

"You're okay with this, right Chris?" she said over the loud music.

"I don't have a choice. You will always belong to Luke," he said, somewhat somberly and bitterly.

"But are you okay?" she asked him cautiously, not wanting to make a big emotional spectacle out of the conversation at her daughter's wedding.

"Yeah…I think I am slowly getting there," he replied.

They stood on the edge of the dance floor a little longer, watching their daughter dance with Richard next. Luke came back to Lorelai, leaving Chris with a glass of champagne in his hand, watching the crowd without a woman next to him.

* * *

The rest of the evening continued in true fiesta fashion, the alcohol becoming more ubiquitous than blood in the circulatory systems of the attendees. That is, of course, except for Rory and Logan who were carefully spacing out their alcohol consumption. They weren't going to miss witnessing the antics of their drunken friends because they themselves were too shnockered to pay full attention. And that worked to their advantage because Finn had been dancing with Miss Patty for the last half hour, much to her delight and unbeknownst to Finn. His attraction stopped at the auburn hair, although Miss Patty was already convinced they were soul mates.

It was dark outside when the guests started to filter out. The Hartford crowd had left well before the Stars Hollow residents, much to the relief of Logan who didn't really want them there in the first place. He and Rory were in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by four or five couples that were probably asleep on each other's shoulders, but still able to shuffle their feet in time to the music. Chris interrupted them to give Rory a kiss and Logan a handshake, being that he had to get back to his hotel. Logan took the opportunity to go track down his mysteriously absent parents.

He found his mother at the coat check, handing her ticket to the attendant. She noticed him standing a few feet away. "Logan, I was just going to come and say goodbye," she said as he approached her, her light jacket draped over her arm. As he neared, Logan noticed her arm was shaking.

"Leaving already?" he said, ignoring her arm for the time being.

"What? Oh…oh yes I, um have a… thing in the morning." She was obviously flustered. Logan's brow creased in confusion. Normally he wouldn't have found it strange that his mother was just simply leaving. However, one, it was his wedding day, and two, they had somewhat made amends. Add in the fact that she was shaking and wasn't thinking clearly, and Logan knew something was amiss.

"A _thing_?" he questioned, looking again at her arm that was still quivering.

"Yes. I'm very tired and—"

"Shira!" Mitchum's voice boomed as he came out of the ballroom and into the lobby. Logan's head whipped around and Shira's gaze jerked upward, past her son's shoulder. She looked like a deer in the headlights. "Are you leaving without _me_?" he said loudly and drunkenly. He came stumbling towards the two of them.

"Logan, I have to go. Tell Rory goodbye for me." Shira turned on her heel, heart racing, and walked quickly to the door. Logan gave a quick, alarmed nod towards his mother. Just as she darted out the door, Mitchum reached the spot where she had been standing. He started after her, but Logan, furious, stopped him, physically throwing his body against him. Colin, having heard the altercation, along with every other guest in the room, ran to assist him. The two dragged him into the men's lounge and threw him on the couch. Upon impact, Mitchum slumped down, sliding against the smooth, slack brown leather. Logan shook his hands when he let go, as if physically ridding them of some substance. Colin locked the door.

After a minute of pacing and Mitchum's lax facial expression deftly following his path, Logan turned on him. "What the hell were you doing? What the HELL were you doing? Answer me you bastard!" Logan yelled at his father.

Mitchum just sat there.

Logan wasn't budging until he got an answer.

Calmly and somewhat obliviously, Mitchum said, "I was asking my wife if she intended to leave without me, her husband."

"Well guess what. Newsflash, _she's_ not your wife anymore! You screwed _that_ up too! Just like your business! Just like your life!"

Suddenly and uncontrollably, Mitchum started to laugh. It was a deep, guttural laugh—not sinister, just the kind of laugh that signifies the moment when a person simply gives up, as Mitchum Huntzberger had.

Logan stared at him incredulously, his suit wrinkled and disheveled from the physical confrontation. "You are unbelievable," Logan said in a low, more defeated tone.

Mitchum's eyes had been reduced to slits, on the verge of sleep. It was through this narrowed view that he looked at Logan.

Logan walked, frustrated, to the opposite corner of the room.

Colin had been watching the interaction with a clenched fist and a twitching jaw. There was fire in his eyes. His entire life, he and Finn had stood there and watched Logan take crap from his father. Even what their own fathers dished out could not compare. He couldn't take it any longer. "Mr. Huntzberger—"

"Don't," said Logan sternly. "Colin, I appreciate it, but he needs to hear this from me. From his _son_."

Colin looked at Logan hard for a minute, silently asking him if he was sure, but then he stepped back as Logan faced his father one last time. Logan took a deep breath. "You know, Dad, no kid is supposed to say this to their father. No kid is ever supposed to sink so low as to tell his father that he thinks that he is scum. But it's true, there is no other word for it. You are scum.

"Here I was thinking that with all the shit you've been through lately, maybe you'd turn over a new leaf, feel remorse, I don't know. Here I was thinking that I could be the bigger man and put all of it aside to help my father, despite the fact that you never helped me. Here I was thinking that you'd have a wake up call. But no. You went back to your stupid wallowing. You gave up. And I have lost all respect for you. You have now tainted the single most important day of my life with the worst memory I will ever have.

"You're a stupid drunken man who ceased to be my father a long time ago. I don't owe you anything. You can leave now, and we'll call it even, as long as I never, ever have to hear from you again." Logan wasn't out of breath. He'd kept his cool and Colin had listened placidly.

Mitchum stared, emotionless. Whether or not he had comprehended the magnitude of Logan's words, he got up slowly, stumbled to the door, and ripped it open. His uneven steps could be heard tripping down the hallway, and after two minutes, Logan was sure he was out the door. He didn't even care if his father drove himself home or not.

"You okay?" Colin asked. Logan, glass eyed, looked at him.

"Yeah. I'll be okay." Colin nodded. Slowly, Logan opened the door. Rory was standing just outside.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey," he said, standing so close she felt his breath on her face.

"Everything all right?" she asked tentatively.

Logan leaned in and kissed her long and passionately. "It is now," he said, trying hard to put on a convincing smile. "Did everyone leave?"

"Yeah. After the little…spat, the rest sort of filed out. Mom, Luke, and my grandmother are still here, but they're about to leave."

"Then lets get out of here," he said.

They went into the ballroom to say their goodbyes. They trusted that Emily would handle clean up—she was almost done with the baton waving. Lorelai was going to take the couple's clothes and belongings back to the Crap Shack, since Rory and Logan wanted to get back to their apartment. They were headed to New York for their honeymoon tomorrow and it was, after all, their wedding night.

A long, sleek black limousine took Rory and Logan home. As was customary, Logan hoisted Rory into his arms and carried her over the threshold of their apartment. He wanted to say, "Welcome home, Mrs. Huntzberger," but Rory had decided to hyphenate her name and "Rory Gilmore-Huntzberger" was way too many syllables. To avoid it, he just kissed her as he carried her to the bedroom. She didn't seem to mind. Logan brought his right foot up to tap the door closed as he laid Rory on the bed. The rest, as they say, is history.


	12. Love Grows and Withers, Like a Rose

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

It was a quiet morning as Rory slowly opened her eyes. The bleary haze cleared from them as she continued to blink, only to realize that her head was tilted at a ninety-degree angle. She sat up slowly and winced at the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains in the bedroom. Logan was standing in front of the mirror running a brush through his hair. He was already dressed.

"Good morning, Ace," he said with a wide smile. They may have been married, but the cute nickname stuck.

Rory smiled, glad that he still called her that. "Morning," she said as she got off the bed. She passed him on the way to the bathroom and planted a kiss square on his mouth. He heard her shuffling around the bathroom, looking for a towel in order to take a shower.

"Just so you know, we're leaving here in an hour," he yelled to her over the rush of water.

"What?" she yelled back.

"One hour," he said.

"I didn't have time to pack!"

"Relax Ace. I put some clothes in a suitcase. It's New York, not the Bahamas."

She didn't respond, either miffed or unable to hear.

He went into the kitchen after giving Frank the suitcases. He made Rory a cup of coffee and tea for himself, and threw some eggs on the stove for breakfast.

Twenty minutes later, Rory came out of the bathroom, hair combed and sopping. She was, miraculously, fully clothed. "You have to give a girl a little warning, Huntzberger," she said as she folded her legs under her to sit at the table.

"Come on, what happened to being spontaneous? And besides, you knew we were going to New York like a month ago."

"Yeah but with everything that's been going on, I totally forgot that I hadn't packed. You cooked breakfast?" she said, just noticing the omelet he set in front of her.

"Yes, and don't make a face because it's not a pop tart or pancakes. You'll like it," he said, scooping some of the cheese and vegetables onto his fork and popping it into his mouth.

Rory wrinkled her nose, but did the same, not wanting to offend him. To her surprise, she didn't hate it, but that could have been because Logan forwent the vegetables and gave her three kinds of cheese with the eggs instead.

"You amaze me," she said playfully.

"Oh yeah? Why?" he said, his mouth full.

"You're up, you're dressed, you're packed, you cooked…the list goes on."

"Well then by all means, don't stop," he said, making her laugh. She kept eating and Logan said, "Well it's because I'm excited. Today is the first day of our life together as a married couple."

"Oh now you're just making me feel guilty," Rory said, taking a sip of her coffee. "You even made coffee."

Logan smiled as he cleared the plates. "Frank's downstairs in the car. I'll be down in a minute, Mrs. Gilmore-Huntzberger," Logan said with a smirk.

"You know I do like the sound of that," Rory said, gathering her bag and jacket and heading out the door.

Logan put the dishes in the dishwasher, quickly scanned the apartment for anything he may have forgotten and locked the door.

Logan had an apartment in New York, but he and Rory opted to stay in a hotel to experience the full five-star treatment. They could play the newlywed card at a hotel, and that was always fun. They had Frank for the week, so he provided twenty-four hour transportation around the city.

Logan gave the "we just got married" bit a try at concierge. They were immediately given the honeymoon suite, even before the receptionist saw his name was Huntzberger. Up in the room, Rory and Logan were unpacking.

"You're not upset that we didn't go to Hawaii or something like that, right?" Rory said, looking out on the New York City skyline.

"Are you kidding? And didn't we agree that a beach was far less exciting than New York?" he said, throwing her a questioning glance.

"Yeah we did. But we can always come to New York—"

"And we can always go to Hawaii. Wherever you want to go, I'm going with you, remember?" he said.

Rory thought back all those months ago, to when Logan first proposed. He had said he was there for all of it, even the "up and going." All he'd asked for in return was her, and she'd upheld that end of the bargain.

"Okay," she said, sitting next to him on the bed. "So, what do you want to do, _Mr. Huntzberger_," getting him back for before.

Logan looked around the room and moved his eyes behind them, towards the bedspread. "Well, since we're already here…" he said, pulling Rory onto the comforter.

"I like how you think," she said, laughing and kissing him at the same time.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time the two of them decided to hit the town. The sky was in a confused state, unable to decide between dusk and day. As a result, pinks, oranges, and purples mixed together, masking the usual blue and mingling with the occasional wisp of a cloud.

Logan and Rory walked arm in arm down the city street. Being young and in love, they fit right into the fast-paced scenery. Rory loved the small-town life as much as the next Stars Hollow citizen, but there was something about New York that made her feel alive. And New York was famous, past and present, for being home to some of the world's most brilliant literary geniuses, both in the authorial and publishing spheres.

Logan too seemed more alive as he and Rory strolled down the street. They passed small business after small business, New York being a perfect foster home for budding entrepreneurs. And of course coffee shops were as ubiquitous as car exhaust in New York, which boded well for Rory. It was for this reason that Logan suddenly felt himself jerked sideways and through a doorway. Rory dragged him into a small coffee shop. It was the kind of place where everyone looked up from their coffee and newspaper when the bells on the door signaled the arrival of another patron. At most places in New York, the more commercial ones, you'd be lucky if a waiter acknowledged you.

Rory of course ordered coffee, and even Logan succumbed to the enticing aroma that enveloped the shop. He broke on the pastries too, unable to ignore the perfectly displayed treats, and of course, Rory's puppy-dog eyes.

They enjoyed an hour or so just talking, laughing and being together, lost in their own world. When they emerged back onto the street, the sky was a little bit darker, the air thick with the heat of late July. A few more feet of concrete brought them to a bookstore, and Logan was yet again brought in by force, not that he minded a chance to browse the latest additions to the literary world.

Rory and Logan perused the shelves and then her cell phone rang. Not wanting to disturb the quiet atmosphere, she told Logan she'd be right back as she took the phone call from her mother outside.

"Hey hon, how are you guys?" Lorelai asked cheerfully.

"We're good, we're at a bookstore right now. What's up?" Rory asked.

"Nothing much. Everyone is gushing about the wedding and I was just wondering what you two were up to," Lorelai said, the last part with too much of a hinting tone.

"_Mom_," Rory said, rolling her eyes. "There is more to a honeymoon than sex."

"What movies have _you_ been watching?" Lorelai said playfully. "Fine, I guess you're busy doing normal people stuff. Just call me when you find two seconds. I don't know _how_ you'll be able to get away from all the _fun_," she said sarcastically.

"I will. Love you, call you later." Rory threw her cell phone in her bag and was about to head back inside when she overheard another conversation.

"Yeah I'll call you from the hotel if I get the deal. Okay, speak to you later." The man on the phone ended the call and slipped the sleek black cell phone into the front pocket of his jeans. His messenger bag was slung over his shoulder and as he turned around to head in the opposite direction, Rory knew exactly who he was. She tried to duck back into the bookstore, hoping he wouldn't notice her, but she realized that was moot since he was probably going into the same establishment. Regardless, they made eye contact.

"Rory…" he said in a shocked tone.

Rory squeezed her eyes shut and said a few curses in her head before responding. "Jess, it's been a long time."

"Yeah…" he said breathlessly, coming closer. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again." He stopped in front of her. His hair was messier, piled high on his head, not spiked like he used to wear it. He sported dark stubble on his chin and was leaner and more muscular than when they'd last met in Philadelphia. But he had not lost that piercing gaze. His eyes were as dark brown and wide as ever, able to bore a hole in her head and hold a conversation with her all at the same time.

"Well I'm sure it was bound to happen sometime," she replied. "You know since your uncle and mom live in my town and—"

"What was bound to happen?" Logan said, emerging from the bookstore with a brown paper bag in hand. "I bought the book you were looking at, by the way," he said turning to Rory but not taking his eyes off Jess.

"Thanks," she said, looking at the concrete. _I can't believe this_, she thought to herself. _Please, please just let this be over._ "Logan, you remember Jess," she said, only being polite.

"I believe I do," Logan said giving Jess a tight nod, but trying to remain restrained.

"Well, well, well," Jess said. "Still dating him I see," Jess said, ignoring Logan and looking at Rory who was now uncomfortably caught between two men. Jess's tone was resigned, even accepting of the fact, but his resentment of the situation was not lost on Rory.

"We're married, actually," she said, holding up her left hand as proof. "We're on our honeymoon."

"I stand corrected," Jess said, now shooting daggers at Logan.

Rory could have sworn she saw Logan's hand twitch, possibly in preparation for a punch, but he remained calm.

"So Jess," he said, slightly too loud and fresh for the environment. "What brings you to New York?"

Rory looked at Logan. _Why is he engaging? Couldn't they just say, "It was nice to see you," and move on?_

"A book deal. Trying to secure this bookstore as a tour stop for one of our writers from Truncheon Books."

"Still working there?" Logan asked, wondering how much money it would take to buy it out and have Jess out of a job.

"Actually, I bought it six months ago."

"Congratulations," Logan said. He dismissed the thought of buying it. It wasn't worth the trouble of upsetting Rory. He'd let him enjoy his success, knowing that ultimately he'd won the better prize.

"Wow Jess, that's really great," said Rory, genuinely happy for him. "Are you coming to visit Luke anytime soon?"

"I'll probably come for Thanksgiving. My mom's been dying to see me."

"Maybe we'll see you around," Rory said, taking Logan's hand and starting to tug him in the opposite direction.

"Maybe," he said, heading into the bookstore.

"Bye Jess," said Logan with a smug look, the two communicating just with the turning of their heads that there was definitely still some animosity there, but for Rory's sake it was best left alone.

"And by the way," Jess said, turning to face them one last time.

"Congratulations to you too. I hope you're really, really happy." Rory thought she detected some kind of John Bender sarcasm, the kind Jess would have used to express how sappy a Nicholas Sparks novel was. As if Rory and Logan's relationship were merely a fairy tale society marriage, the happy ending that Jess hated. Or the kind he resented, simply because he didn't have one.

"Thank you." This, surprisingly, came from Logan. Maybe he was putting on a show for Rory. "The best of luck to you Jess." Without another word exchanged between the three, Jess disappeared into the bookstore, and Rory and Logan continued down the street, and looped back to the hotel. They were staying in and ordering room service tonight.

* * *

When they were comfortably settled on the bed, eating dinner together, with the low hum of the TV providing background noise, Rory brought up Jess.

"Thank you," she started by saying.

"For what?" he said, having momentarily forgotten about Jess and thoroughly enjoying the time he was spending with Rory.

"For not totally going out of control when you saw Jess," she said.

"Oh." Logan was quiet for a minute, choosing his words carefully. He inhaled sharply. "Well, it wouldn't have been fair. Ultimately, I won so it wouldn't have been right to shove it in his face."

"You won?" Rory said questioningly.

"Tonight, I get to sit here with you, my wife. Jess will go back to his hotel, make some calls, and go back to his business in Philadelphia," Logan said, setting aside the empty trays of food. Rory snuggled closer to him.

"I guess so. But come on. The two of you looked like you were going to whip out the guns and have a Wild West showdown there for a minute."

"Listen. There is always going to be some bad blood between any of your exes and myself. I get overprotective because I love you. And I have to be overprotective, because those guys will realize what they lost when they see us together, and they might try something."

"Oh yeah? What will they try?" Rory asked, finding Logan's overprotective mode endearing, and his ideas funny.

"You know. They might go all Kung Fu Panda on me, or something like that. And you know I dropped out of karate when I was seven."

"Oh I see. So in other words, you can talk the talk, but you can't walk the walk?"

"Hey. I can _so_ walk the walk."

"I don't want to take any chances. I keep Jackie Chan on speed dial."

"Yeah that's probably a good idea," Logan said laughing.

"I love you," Rory said.

"I love you too Ace. And don't worry about me and Jess or any of those other heartbreakers. I can't make too many promises, but I don't want you to worry about us running into them. You stood up at that altar with _me_. That's what counts."

Rory leaned over Logan's arm and kissed him. A few minutes later, she fell asleep like that, Logan cradling her head, heavy with her thoughts. He liked the feeling of holding so much in his hands.

* * *

While Rory and Logan were off in New York enjoying their new status as "married couple," Luke and Lorelai were enjoying their status as "happily dating" couple. Luke had consented to yet another movie night on Lorelai's couch, not that he really minded, despite the grief he gave her for it.

Lorelai had picked another oldie that Luke had not seen, to Lorelai's horror. Luke marveled at this since they never really wound up watching the movie. Yes, Lorelai would recite every line by heart silently, and pause and explain parts to Luke that may not have made sense, adding in her own professional commentary, but Luke was always engrossed in Lorelai. Yes, he tried to pick up on the gist of the movie, knowing that in a month Lorelai would make some ridiculous reference to a character, and then be upset when he didn't remember him or her. But instead, he preferred to study Lorelai more closely than the film. He took in the beautiful shine of her hair, the cool, mesmerizing color of her eyes. The way the skin wrinkled around her eyes when she laughed. The way she beamed when she looked up at him, to make sure he had gotten the last line in the movie, to make sure he was enjoying himself. To make sure he was happy. That was what struck him the most.

Luke had been with a fair amount of women, of many different types, but they had all been too absorbed in themselves when they were together. Either that, or they focused too much on "where the relationship was heading." But with Lorelai, she always thought of how Luke was doing before anything else. With Lorelai, being in a relationship didn't feel like work. It didn't feel like something he had to go over and over in his head to make sure he was getting it right. It didn't keep him awake for hours, thinking about all the nuances and hidden meanings in gestures and words and the tone of the words and the timing of the words. It just felt right. It had felt right from the day Lorelai barged into the diner, demanding coffee. It had finally felt like fate was intervening for the better, the irony confirmed when Lorelai handed him a horoscope. The stars aligned for him at that moment, and now he was holding Lorelai in his arms. All was right with the world.

The movie ended, and both Luke and Lorelai were barely awake. Luke followed Lorelai upstairs. It had been a long time since he'd actually stayed in his apartment for any length of time. April was already on her way back to New Mexico, so it wasn't like they had to be careful with what they did.

They got into bed and Lorelai stretched far down under the covers. Luke took her in her arms.

"Love you," she murmured as sleep overcame her.

"Love you too," he said. And he really meant it. With a lot of his other girlfriends, it had been a compulsory statement. It hadn't carried the same amount of weight to him that his girlfriends attributed to it. It hadn't meant anything. But with Lorelai, Luke knew exactly why those three little words meant so much. They weren't to be used casually—they were a statement between two people who at that moment shared a bond not shared by others. They were truly in love, and Luke knew it would be that way for the rest of time.

* * *

Shira woke up the morning after her son's wedding in a cold sweat. Her dreams had been riddled with images of Mitchum. In most of them, he looked like Frankenstein—drunk, limping, foaming at the mouth, violent. Only one had been relatively normal—an image of how his face had looked when he'd found out that his second-born was a boy. He was finally getting what he wanted.

The fact that this was practically the only happy image Shira could conjure up signified that he had never really loved her. Maybe at one point, a long time ago, she supposed that he had thought about marrying someone for love, and that he had thought that that person was Shira. But realistically, Mitchum cared only about one thing, and that was success. Success meant headlining the business section each week with a new deal. Success meant having a son to do the same thing when Mitchum was too old to do it himself. That was why he had been so happy, Shira realized. She had been happy too, but for a completely different reason. She was happy that she would know a man that _wasn't_ like her husband. She knew that she would have a part in shaping that man, and with Logan, she fully intended to shape his life in a completely different way from that of her husband.

Of course, things rarely go as planned and he was rebellious, just as his father had been at his age. Shira, not knowing what to do, scared that she would have to deal with a version of Mitchum in her son, distanced herself, ridiculed his every decision. Especially when she found out he had fallen for a Gilmore.

However, Shira was only now realizing how wrong she had been. Logan was so different from his father. She knew she had little to do with that fact, but she knew that she could spend the rest of her life making up for that absence. Especially since Logan had all but denounced his father. Especially since Shira would now have relatively unobstructed access to Logan's life, her ex-husband now removed from the picture.

That thought made her happy. But knowing Mitchum, he wouldn't be out of the picture for long. She shuddered at the thought, feeling as if his hand was clamping down on her thoughts. Clamping down on and smothering even the thought of having a life without him, like had done the night prior.

_She had been sitting alone at her table, absently stirring her drink with the rigid red cocktail straw. Mitchum was blocked from view by a few cronies he had been talking to. When they left, he spotted Shira from across the room. He got up slowly and sat down precariously next to her. He was very drunk—she could tell by the way he walked, the unusual heaviness of his breathing, the smell of the alcohol on his breath as he exhaled, the squinty eyes. She physically tensed, making herself even smaller as she wedged herself into the corner between the wall and her chair._

_"Enjoying the evening?" he said thickly. _

_ Shira had only nodded in return._

_ "Are you mad at me?" he asked her, turning his head slowly to face her. _

_ She was confused. Of course she was mad at him. Or if not mad, then in no condition to speak to him. They were in the middle of a divorce. _

_ When she didn't respond, he said, "Well, what did I do this time?" He sounded as if he had just come home from the office, and was wondering why she was miffed at him for missing yet another dinner party._

_ "Mitchum, do you not recall the fact that we are no longer married?" she said, too quietly for the way she truly felt. _

_ Mitchum looked stunned. "Shira, what are you talking about? We're married. You're Shira Huntzberger. I am your husband." _

_ She looked away, not getting the game he was playing. _

_ "I'm your husband!" he roared. He stood up, knocking down his chair. The music was loud and no one seemed to notice. He looked at her with the eyes of The Hulk. She stared back up at him, not knowing what to do. He reached down violently and gripped her wrist, wrenching her out of her seat. "I'm your husband!" he roared again. "Don't you_ dare _forget that, you low-life piece of scum! I married you. I made you Shira_ Huntzberger! _I made you something!" _

_ Shira ripped her arm free, knocking over her drink. She brusquely pushed past Mitchum, sending him off balance in his drunken state._

_ She hurried out of the ballroom and to the coat check, barely able to hold the ticket out to the attendant. She saw Logan coming toward her._

_ "Logan, I was just going to come and say goodbye," she said as he approached her, trying to keep her voice even and her arm steady. She didn't want to let on to what was happening._

_ "Leaving already?" he said, sounding a little upset, but more confused. _

_ "What? Oh…oh yes I, um have a… thing in the morning." She knew that that must have sounded ridiculous, but her heart was racing._

_"A_ thing_?" he questioned her. Shira nervously eyed the entrance to the ballroom, praying Mitchum had not been able to regain his balance and that she could just leave before he got any more physical._

_"Yes. I'm very tired and—" _

_ "Shira!" She flinched as Mitchum's voice collided with her eardrums. She felt bad skipping out on Logan and Rory, but it was either that or having her son witness his father's drunken abuse on his wedding day. She was all of a sudden thankful that she had missed the rehearsal dinner. She could never have fathomed that his drinking would have brought him to this. It never had in the past. But he was a changed man, or so she had been told._

_ "Are you leaving without_ me_?" In his state, he was still under the delusional impression that they were married. _

_Quickly, Shira said, "Logan, I have to go. Tell Rory goodbye for me." She raced out of the club, without waiting to find out what would happen._

The first thought in her mind after she had cleared away the memory was that she'd have to call Logan and explain it to him. She didn't want to bother him on his honeymoon. It could wait until he got back. She only hoped that her ex-husband didn't get to him first.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? I value all of your wonderful comments, so please feel free to review!**


	13. If You're Going to San Francisco

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS.

**A/N: Credit to Scott McKenzie's 1967 tune 'San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)" for the title. Happy reading!**

* * *

On their last morning in New York, Logan was taking a shower while Rory watched the weather report. She had already gotten dressed. The weatherman was gesturing wildly in front of the map, trying to convey the fact that rain was on its way.

Logan was all but done with his shower. They were already packed with the bags in the car. After breakfast, they were heading straight home. Logan's cell phone was on the dresser next to the TV, and it vibrated every time a call or e-mail came through. It started buzzing, in danger of falling onto the floor.

"Logan, your phone!" Rory yelled over the spray of water. Lately, he'd been getting important calls about his father's state of affairs. Despite the fight, it was still his job to keep everything running smoothly.

"Can you just pick it up?" he yelled back. Rory lunged for the phone before it went to voicemail.

She got it on the last ring. "Hello?" she said breathlessly into the phone.

"Hi. Is Mr. Huntzberger available?" said a woman on the other end.

"He's not, can I ask who's calling?" Rory said, curious as to who the mystery caller was.

"This is Sarah Callor, the realtor. Are you Mrs. Huntzberger?" she asked.

"I am," Rory said.

"Can you tell your husband that the couple took the bid? We need you to come out within ten days to sign the contract."

Rory was about to question Sarah, but instead just filed the information and decided to ask Logan about it. "Of course, I'll tell him. Thank you."

"Thank you Mrs. Huntzberger. Have a nice day."

"You too…" Rory said absent mindedly, her mind unable to focus on one explanation for the phone call. At that moment, Logan came out of the bathroom, a towel on his waist.

"Hey. Who was that?" he asked as he towel-dried his hair.

"Um… that was Sarah. The realtor," Rory said slowly, expecting some kind of "oh crap" expression to pass over his face, but no such look donned on him.

"What did she say?" he asked.

"She said the couple took the bid and they need us out there in ten days to sign the contract. She also called me _Mrs. Huntzberger_."

"Sorry about that," he laughed. "She knew I was getting married."

"Okay, hold on a second here. First of all, why would this random realtor know you were getting married, where is 'there' and why is a couple moving out of a house that you are signing a contract for?"

Logan looked surprised. "It's our house. The house in California. With the avocado tree…"

At each new detail, it slowly came back to Rory. Logan owning an Internet publishing company. Having to move to California by the end of August. Him mentioning something about a house with three bedrooms and an avocado tree in the backyard. While it had slipped her mind, she thought that Logan would have at least re-mentioned it, and the fact that he hadn't made her think that he was postponing the plans until things went back to normal with his family.

"So, we rented a house," Rory said, numb and confused and feeling like the rug had been pulled out from underneath her a little too quickly.

"Technically yes, the house was for rent, but I gave the owners a little incentive, so we actually own it. The couple that is moving out wants to go back east to be closer to their grandkids. I thought it was cute."

"I'm sorry, can we just backtrack here for a second here. We're actually _moving_ to California?" Rory said, almost yelling.

"Ace, didn't I already discuss this with you?"

"Discussed? Logan, you _mentioned_ it to me once and then never again. And besides, you wouldn't honestly think of moving, not with your family in the state that it is in right now, would you? Don't you have to kind of step in for your dad?" Rory said, grasping at straws.

"I'll find someone else to manage it. Josh maybe, so it will stay in the family. But I need to be in California to merge my company and the one I bought. I'm having trouble seeing the problem here."

"The problem? I know we _talked_ about it, but I haven't even had a chance to wrap my head around the idea of going all the way to the West coast. I haven't told my mom or my grandparents, I'm fresh out of college. I haven't gotten any calls from the jobs I applied to. I haven't—"

"Rory, relax. There is still a month left to 'wrap your head around it.' As for a job, there are plenty of jobs in California. I thought you were excited about this?" he said, a little hurt.

"Yeah, I was excited about you owning your own company. I was caught up in the whirlwind of our engagement and life moving quickly and just sort of jumping on the rollercoaster. But this is _big_. And when did you even have time to deal with all of this?" she said, quickly changing gears, an effect of her rambling and jumbled state of mind.

"I can get a lot done in a short amount of time. Besides, while you were busy with the wedding, I was taking care of all of this."

"Oh god Logan. I should have paid more attention. All I was doing was combing through decorations and invitations and you were dealing with your family and setting up our life in California. I'm so sorry."

"Ace, don't worry about it. It was fine. It took my mind off my dad and one of us had to plan our wedding."

Rory sank down on the bed and exhaled. She put her head on Logan's shoulder. "I guess this would be the definition of 'up and going,'" she said.

Logan smiled. "Yeah. Yeah it would."

* * *

Rory and Logan were out the door within half an hour. They got in the limo and headed back to Stars Hollow. However, just before leaving the city, Logan shouted to Frank, "Stop the car!" Frank jammed on the brakes and Rory sat up, alarmed.

"Logan, what's wrong?" she said, her heart pounding.

"Nothing, I've just always wanted to say that. But seriously, Frank, can you make a left up there?"

Rory laughed nervously.

"Of course, Mr. Huntzberger," Frank replied, hiding his alarm fairly well.

"Where are we going?" Rory asked Logan. "We're meeting my mom for lunch at Luke's."

"I know, but trust me, you'll want to see this."

Rory didn't say anything for the rest of the ride. Frank stopped the car after a few minutes. Rory looked out the window at a cordoned off building, wondering why Logan was taking her here, to 620 Eighth Avenue, between West 40th and 41st streets.

"We'll just be a few minutes Frank," Logan said as he got out of the car to let Rory out. Rory took Logan's hand and stepped out onto the concrete.

"Logan…what are we doing here?" she questioned, in awe of the huge skyscraper in front of her.

"You'll see," he said as he took her hand.

He and Rory stepped over the ropes that surrounded the building and walked up to the glass doors. Logan held one open for Rory and the two entered. There was no sign in the spacious lobby that could give Rory a clue as to what kind of building she was in. Logan just smiled at the woman at the front desk and walked to the elevators. Rory's head was in constant motion, taking in her surroundings. The interior, like the exterior, was all glass and chrome, but not in a cold way. It was modern and beautiful and it felt like a place Rory would have loved to work in everyday. She found herself envying the businessmen and women that milled around the office.

They got off at the 52nd floor, the penthouse. Hank Gallagher, one of Logan's business associates, was standing there in his suit.

"Good morning Mr. Huntzberger, Mrs. Huntzberger," he greeted cordially.

"Hank, how are you? We've come to tour the facilities."

"Of course. Right this way." Hank proceeded to give Rory and Logan a tour of the 52nd floor. "So the _New York Times_ building—"

"Oh my god," Rory squealed. She turned to Logan. "We're in the _New York Times'_ new building?"

"Yeah Ace. What do you think?"

"What do I think? I can't even think, much less speak. This is incredible. I thought it wasn't slated for opening for another four months!"

"It's not," Hank chimed in. "Not to the public anyway. But we moved the staff here a month ago, since construction finished ahead of schedule. The ropes at the entrance are just to keep the public at bay."

"Hank has been the liaison for the _Times_ at HPG, trying to secure some paper ownership deals. I asked him if he'd let us sneak in here, since it _is_ our honeymoon. Consider it my wedding gift," Logan said.

Rory kissed Logan's cheek, not one for large public displays of affection. "I love it. Thank you."

Hank gave them the rest of the tour, Rory stopping him every five seconds to ask incessant questions or just marvel at the architecture of the structure.

"…And last stop. The editor's office," Hank said, stopping in front of a surprisingly undecorated wooden door.

"This is it?" Rory said, barely concealing her excitement. Hank nodded. "Can I…" Rory asked tentatively, her hand already on the doorknob.

"He's waiting for you," Hank said.

Rory looked back at Logan, her mouth and eyes wide in anticipation.

"Go ahead Ace. I'm gonna talk to Hank for a few minutes."

Rory mouthed a 'thank you' as she steeled herself for the moment she had been waiting for since she got into Yale.

Rory opened the door slowly and immediately saw Mr. Bill Keller reviewing articles at his desk. Two of the walls behind his desk were made of nothing but glass, giving him a breathtaking and unobstructed view of the expanse of city fifty-two floors below him.

"Mrs. Huntzberger is it?" he said, looking up when Rory walked in. "Mr. Gallagher and Mr. Huntzberger told me you'd be coming in."

"Actually, it's Ms. Gilmore for professional reasons," Rory said timidly.

"Smart decision. Wouldn't want some crazed reader coming after you, especially with a prestigious name like Huntzberger."

"That was the general idea," she said, trying to laugh away her nerves. She was in the presence of the executive editor of the _New York_ _Times_.

"Please, sit," he said, gesturing to an empty seat in front of his desk. Rory hurried to take him up on his suggestion.

"Mr. Keller, it is such an honor to meet you. I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for this moment. You've done such extensive foreign reporting in your career. I've followed you since I've been old enough to read the paper."

"Well it's nice to know I have a fan. Talk to my writers, they probably won't say the same, unless you catch one of them on a day when I gave them a spot on the front page. But I've followed you as well, Ms. Gilmore. Your rise to editor-in-chief at the Yale Daily News was much deserved, I might add."

"You've…read my work?" she asked incredulously.

"Indeed I have. The newspaper execs like to keep on top of the up and coming journalists. All of the editors tend to follow the bright young people at the top of the most prominent collegiate newspapers. Think of it like college scouting for sports, only in a _much _more competitive environment."

"That's very true," Rory said, knowing from her experience as editor how cut throat writers can be.

"Well as spontaneous as this visit may seem, I actually would like to give you my business card. It has my private line on there. I'm sure you have no shortage of job offers, but on the off chance that you do, give me a call. I'd love to give your portfolio a look-through."

Stunned did not do her reaction justice. "Thank you so, so much Mr. Keller. It's been a pleasure meeting you," Rory said, standing and reaching over to shake his hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Gilmore. Say hello to your husband for me."

Rory left the office walking on air.

"Ready to go?" Logan asked when she came out.

"Yes. I'm starving!"

Logan laughed and took her arm as they left the _New York Times_ building.

* * *

In the limo on the way to Stars Hollow for lunch with her mom, Rory was mulling over what Mr. Keller had said to her. _I'd love to give your portfolio a look-through_. How could she turn that down? But by the same token, was this just some handout because she was married to Logan. _Say hello to your husband for me_. Rory shook her head, trying to clear it of the thousands of questions that were swimming around in her brain. _Wasn't this exactly what I was trying to avoid when I said yes to Logan's proposal? Would it be better to take any one of the numerous jobs I applied for, provided I get them? Those employers don't know whom I'm married to. Wouldn't it say a lot more about me as a writer if I accepted one of the jobs I got on my own?_

Who was she kidding? A look-through wouldn't be set in stone, and it's not like she was getting offered a job. All Mr. Keller wanted was to _see_ her work. He could decide that she didn't have it yet, that she needed more experience. She would give him a call, she resolved. Nothing bad could come of that.

"Ace…" Logan's voice soothed. Rory snapped her head up, his voice luring her from her thoughts. Logan laughed. "You looked pretty conflicted there. Something on your mind?" he asked, genuinely concerned. She hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to tell Logan about the offer. She didn't want him making any calls that could unfairly skew her opportunity.

"Just thinking about how we're going to tell my mom about California," she said. That wasn't a total lie. California was a big part of her wariness. _If_ she got a job, any job, she'd have to give it up. They were moving in a month, hardly a worthy stint at any establishment.

"Don't worry. We're not going to Antarctica. She can come and visit. We'll come back to Stars Hollow. Besides Ace, I need to get away from my family. I need a break."

"I know," she said, absently staring out the window. Would it be the last she saw of the city for a while? She sighed. "We'll tell her somehow. We'll figure it out."

* * *

Rory and Logan walked into Luke's diner, which, for once, was thankfully empty. Lorelai was sitting there while Luke cooked in the back. She jumped up when she heard the bells ring.

"Rory!" Lorelai exclaimed.

"Mom!" she said, running into her hug.

"Hey Logan," Lorelai said, after breaking away from Rory. He smiled and said hello back.

"Let's eat," Rory said, sitting down to the cheeseburger Luke had already prepared for her.

"Soooo how was the honeymoon?" Lorelai said, another innuendo in her voice. Rory and Logan looked at each other and smiled.

"New York was great. We must have visited a thousand coffee and bookshops. A few museums, Central Park…"

"So in other words, you did normal things on your honeymoon?" said Lorelai, a little depressed that the love story she had watched unfold before her included a less than romantic honeymoon.

"It was perfect," Logan said, giving Rory a light kiss. There it was. They were still in that young love stage. Lorelai, although feigning disgust, hoped it would stay that way for a long time.

Luke came to join them, but business picked up ten minutes later, so he had to work the kitchen. Logan and Rory kept nudging each other, searching for the right time to mention California. Then Logan's cell phone rang. Contrary to Rory's wishes, she wasn't going to be saved by the bell. When he got up to take the call outside, he looked at Rory, his eyes telling her to get it over with while he was gone.

"Has his phone been doing that a lot?" Lorelai said, popping a french fry in her mouth.

"Yeah. Business, his dad, you know."

Rory was too quiet. Lorelai knew something was up, but didn't question it. "How is Mitchum?"

"Don't know. We haven't heard from him since the wedding incident. And frankly, I don't think Logan gives a damn."

"So Logan's been handling his business anyway?"

"For the time being. But he's going to have to find someone else if his dad doesn't get his act together."

"Well it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to have it off his hands," Lorelai commented.

"Well it's the family business, he wants it to stay in the family. He just won't be able to manage it for much longer."

"Why?" Lorelai asked.

"Well…" Rory hesitated. The pause, she knew, would immediately alert her mother's spidey senses that something was going on. It was now or never. "Logan's new Internet publishing business venture is located in California. We're moving out there in the last week of August." Rory squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact.

Her mother's mouth hung open. "That's…that's a month from now." Lorelai was in shock.

"I know it's really sudden, but Logan actually told me about it a month ago. But with the wedding and his family, it just sort of slipped my mind. We have to sign the contract on the house in ten days."

Lorelai was silent for a moment. "Wow. I…I don't really know what to say. I guess…well I guess how do you feel about it?"

"Me? I'm excited…" Rory said, put off by the question. She was expecting a major freak-out on her mom's part.

"That's all? Just excited?" Lorelai was obviously more concerned with how the move would affect her daughter than how it would affect their relationship.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm happy for Logan. He's finally getting a break from his dad's company and he'll be able to deal with all his family crap from a distance which is good—"

"But you don't want to go," Lorelai interrupted.

Rory wasn't quite done with the laundry list, but she stopped. She stared down at the table for a moment. Was it possible to be happy for someone and not want what they wanted? Of course she wanted to be with Logan, but she was leaving _her_ family behind, too. And with her job offers up in the air, who knew what was going to happen? It was true that everything would be easier to deal with on her part from home base for the time being. But who was she to deny Logan his success and happiness?

"I…don't know. I haven't gotten any job offers yet. I'll have to give those up. And I didn't tell Logan, but we went to visit the _Times_ building today. I met the editor and he said he wanted to give my portfolio a look-through."

"Rory, you have to tell Logan. That's big. What if you get a job? The _dream_ job, the next most important thing in your life, after marrying Logan and getting into Yale?"

"I know, but if I tell him, a) he'll start making phone calls and b) he'll feel guilty about moving. I can't take California away from him. Isn't marriage give and take? Shouldn't I be able to suck it up and live in California if it means that he'll be happy too?"

"Yes, but the _New York Times_…"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. He didn't say a job was in the works."

"He will once he reads your stuff."

Rory shrugged. Lorelai knew her daughter would be successful no matter where she was. She wanted what was best for her. And now that also included what was best for Logan.

"I don't know. The _Chronicle_ isn't too shabby either," Rory commented, trying to justify the situation in her head. "But it's not about the job. Yeah the _Times_ would be great, but I'd be happy with any of the big papers. It's being far away from all of this that I can't stand the thought of."

Lorelai sighed. "Listen kid. As long as you're okay, I'm just a plane ride away. I'll come visit you every weekend if you want." Rory looked up, bright-eyed, at her mother, like she was five years old again.

"The house we bought has an avocado tree in the backyard. And three bedrooms, according to Logan," Rory offered quietly.

"Well then I expect fresh guacamole when I come," Lorelai said, trying not to let the glisten in her eye give away the fact that she was crying inside.

Rory laughed, putting on a similar front.

Just then, Logan opened the door to the diner, breaking the somber silence that had fallen over the Gilmore table.

"Everything okay?" Rory asked Logan, worried at the expression on his face.

"My family is really unbelievable. We're away for a week and they self-implode. I can't even believe I have to deal with this the day we get back from our honeymoon."

"Logan, what happened?"

The whole diner was staring at Logan. He sat down at the table and spoke quietly. "That was my mom. She said she didn't want to bother us on our trip. So of course, she calls me first thing when we get back. She told me what happened with my dad at the wedding." He got very quiet.

"Is everything okay?" Rory asked, concern radiating through her whole body.

"No. Let's now add 'abuser' to my father's list of titles."

Both Lorelai and Rory's eyes went wide, waiting for further clarification.

Logan exhaled in frustration. "He got drunk that night and started talking—no, more like yelling at my mom. Apparently, he was under the impression that they were still married. And when she tried to tell him otherwise, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her off her chair. If Colin hadn't intervened, he probably would have gone after her and then I don't know what."

"I'm so sick of this Logan! He's acting like a two-year-old and you have to clean up his messes. He's mistreating your mom, he's ignoring Honor, and he's shirking off his business responsibilities. Why should you have to deal with his bullshit? It isn't fair."

Logan rubbed his eyes, frustrated. "I know it's not. But he dealt with all of my crap growing up. It's almost like he's trying to spite me, give me a taste of my own medicine."

"Well how does it taste?"

"Not good. When I acted like this he—" Logan stopped and his eyes widened with some realization.

"He what?" Rory prompted.

Logan stood up, scraping his chair against the floor. "I have to go, I'll call you later," he said, already half way out the door.

"Wait!" Rory called after him incredulously. He did not just leave her hanging like that. The door slammed shut and Rory looked back to her mother. "I guess I'm staying at home tonight."

* * *

Logan, after dashing out of the diner and jumping into the limo, was already on his cell phone. He had a lot of calls to make. When he was done with his various correspondences, he had Frank wait outside the apartment in Hartford just long enough for Logan to put on a suit. Then, he went to work—the day he got back from his honeymoon.

Logan rode the elevator up to the fifth floor of the HPG building. The doors opened to gray carpeting and a maze of cubicles gridding the floor. Past the workstations was a wall of glass, with perpendicular panels portioning three spacious offices. Logan knew there was probably a pile of paperwork on his desk and a thousand messages on his answering machine, but he veered right after the elevator, into a conference room.

Six members of the board of directors, not including Mitchum and Logan, were already sitting at the finished wood conference table. Only half were in suits, the others in khakis and collared shirts, having been called away from their golf games. Logan caught sight of the golf bags in the corner. He put his brief case down and buttoned his jacket before addressing the group.

"Thank you for being here on such short notice gentlemen. As of late, as I'm sure you are all aware, Mitchum Huntzberger, my father and president of the company, has been missing in action. It is no secret that my family has been going through a rough patch, not to mention this company's recent misfortune. However, we have no hope of getting it off the ground again if Mr. Huntzberger continues to ignore his responsibilities. To this end, I've called this meeting as Vice President to propose a course of action for my father and for this company."

The men, who had looked sleepy-eyed and bored were now slightly more interested. Just then, Josh rushed off the elevator and into the conference room.

"Logan, sorry I'm late. Your sister and I—"

"That's okay Josh, you didn't really miss anything." Logan wasn't sure if he wanted to hear what his brother-in-law and sister had been doing. He turned back to face them. "I'm going to place a call to my father in a few minutes, hopefully one that will galvanize him into getting down here. I know that I haven't filled you in on all the details, but I'm asking for your full support as the board of directors of my family's company. I am also aware that there has always been some friction between you and my father, and standing behind my executive decisions now should rectify those past disputes."

The board looked around at each other, murmuring either in agreement or in opposition. Logan waited patiently. After a few minutes, one man spoke up.

"I speak for the six of us in saying that you have our full support."

"Thank you Mr. Greenfield." Logan reached towards the middle of the table where a desktop phone sat. He waited for a dial tone and punched in the number for his Hamptons house. The maid answered and she promptly patched Logan through to his father. Logan put the phone on the speaker setting so the board could hear the conversation.

"Hello?" Mitchum said languidly.

"Hi Dad, it's Logan. Oh and say hello to HPG's board of directors."

"Logan…Logan what is this?" Mitchum said, weak and shocked.

"Let me tell you exactly what this is, Dad. You have four hours to get yourself dressed and on a plane to Hartford, or some very big decisions about you and the company are going to be made without your presence. And I thought I'd at least give you the benefit of the doubt and let you know that I called a board meeting. See you soon." Logan disconnected the call. There was silence in the room.

"So that was your plan? A scare tactic?" asked Mr. Jenkins.

"No, it's much more than a scare tactic—you underestimate me. Everything I said is true. But for now, we wait."

* * *

Over the next few hours, the board milled in and out of the conference room, going to the bathroom or getting something to eat. Josh sat there quietly mulling over reasons for his presence at the meeting. The board was starting to get restless when the doors to the elevator opened, three and a half hours after Logan's phone call. Mitchum stepped out wearing a suit, accompanied by a man who looked like a bodyguard but was probably just the driver. He walked slowly towards the conference room, entered, and eased himself into a chair at the opposite end of the table.

"So," Mitchum started. "What's your big plan?" he questioned in a mocking tone. Logan just smiled, confident in his course of action.

"Obviously, you haven't been around much since you committed tax fraud and tanked the company. I've been trying to clean up the mess and save the family business. But that is an extremely difficult task when someone who has so much responsibility does not do his job. I know that HPG will come back, just not with you at the helm. So here is what is going to happen. I was supposed to move to California at the end of the summer to merge my Internet publishing company with another one in San Francisco. I bought a house that needs to go to closing within the next ten days. However, I'm not going to sign for the house. I will call my realtor and tell her that my father will be moving there instead.

"You can stay in the house as a tenant. You'll be renting from me, and I am putting you in charge of my two companies. I know you're a good businessman, so you can't screw that up. I will be taking over for you at HPG, and Josh here will be stepping in as Vice President. It is, after all, a family business. Oh and the board here has agreed to support my decisions, so consider this case closed."

Mitchum's eyes were piercing through Logan's but the rest of his face was devoid of emotion. Even the board members and Josh were silent. But they had all agreed. In their minds they knew it was for the best—they were just waiting for the bomb to drop.

Mitchum started to laugh. Kaboom.

Mitchum was laughing because he knew that he was not going to move to California. He knew his son's plan sounded good on paper, but in actuality was not going to work, and that was because of a little thing called human nature.

"What, Dad? What's so funny? Because I don't exactly see anything worth laughing about."

"Oh my dear son. I think that in your excitement to ship me off to the West coast, you forgot about one little detail. What on earth gave you the impression that I was inclined to accept the terms you've laid out? Short of chains, there is no forcible way to get me to do what you're proposing."

Logan smiled again with the thought that this time, he really was getting one over on his father. "Oh how wrong you are. You see, while I've been cleaning up this little tax mess, the lawyers have managed to keep it relatively quiet and to keep the IRS off your back. They've agreed to liquidate your assets to account for the money, and in exchange for not going to jail, they're allowing you to keep a low profile in California. If one thing goes wrong with my companies, one little illegal blip, you're going to prison. And they will have people monitoring you."

Mitchum's eyes steeled over. There was no way out of this. It was California or bust. He stood up and buttoned his jacket. He made as if he were a lawyer gathering papers after a trial and walked slowly around the table. Logan swiveled his neck to follow his father's path.

Mitchum stopped next to his son. "When does the plane leave for California?" Logan was surprised. He didn't think convincing his dad would be so easy, but Mitchum seemed like he was actually resigned to this. "The jet will be at the airstrip tomorrow morning at ten o' clock. One of the firm's lawyers will accompany you with any documents you might need. I'll call the realtor first thing."

Mitchum gave Logan a tight nod and cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, do you mind if I have a moment alone with my son?"

They all scrambled to get their things together and exit the room. When they were all gone, Logan looked expectantly at Mitchum. Mitchum put his hand on his son's shoulder. "I have never been more proud of you. Thank you. For everything." He gave Logan two quick pats on the shoulder and left the room, got in the elevator and was gone, leaving Logan with mystifyingly confusing parting words.

Logan remained standing, looking at the empty room as a lone piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

Mr. Greenfield stuck his head back in the room. "Logan, we're gonna get going, but we'll see you Monday."

"See you Monday," Logan replied woodenly, without looking at the senior member of the board. Greenfield nodded and left, his golf cronies not far behind. Logan had a sudden feeling of despair. Was this the right thing to do? Putting his _father_ in charge of something he had worked so hard to build up? Taking over the family company? Was he falling right back into the Huntzberger trap? As he left the conference room and looked out over the expanse of the headquarters floor, he saw himself growing older exponentially, stuck here day after day, subjugated to the harsh fluorescent lighting and gray drudge. He loved newspapers, just not the way his father ran them. Now, he had taken his reprieve away from himself, and for what? So his father could have an easier time of it in sunny San Fran? It didn't seem fair, even though he knew he had devised the plan. It was California or bust, and by bust he meant having to live with the fact that his father would be just around the corner, waiting to strike at Logan's life, or his mother's.

Lost in his thoughts, Logan went towards the water cooler, where he bumped into Josh. Literally. "Oh shit. Sorry man, I didn't see you. You okay?" Logan surveyed the dark stain of water on the front of Josh's pants and shirt. The papers he had been holding were also wet.

Josh grimaced. "Yeah it's…fine," he said, watching some water drip off the pages.

"Come on," Logan said. "I have a change of clothes in my office."

Josh took the pants and shirt gratefully and changed in the bathroom. When he emerged, Logan was lying horizontally on his couch, his hand over his eyes. Josh thought Logan was sleeping, so he crept quietly towards the door.

"Josh," Logan said, as he was about to step into the hall. "I need to talk to you." Josh needed to talk to Logan as well, but he hadn't exactly found the right time since… well since ten minutes ago when all of the Mitchum business went down.

Logan sat up and moved to his desk. Josh took a chair opposite him.

Logan was hesitant to begin, so Josh did. "So...Vice President, huh? That's quite the promotion, especially since I don't work here."

"Yeah. I know. I should have talked to you about it first. But this whole plan just came together within an hour or so and I needed to come up with a stand in for V.P. –-"

"It's fine, I get it. I would have done the same with my father if I was in your position."

At the mention of Josh's father, Logan's eyes went wide. "Oh my god I completely forgot about your father's banking business. You're supposed to be taking that over. Josh, you are _not _obligated to accept this. I just used your name to mollify my dad."

Josh was silent for a moment. "Well, I wouldn't get rid of me so fast. I'm not hesitating to accept because of my father. My older brother was in charge of the European branch, but he's closing it down. We don't have the funds to sustain it in the recession. He's coming back to the states to take what would have been my position."

"Lucky you," Logan said. He would have given anything to get out of the business like Josh was.

Josh scoffed. "Not so lucky. My father was trying to find another in for me, completely ignoring the fact that while he was "grooming" me to take this over, I had been successful in my own business."

"What business was that?" Logan asked, having known nothing about it.

"Actually, I have your sister to thank. While she had us traveling the globe for a month, I sort of came across a group of guys who were merging travel agencies. It became a really big conglomerate, and they were able to offer packages and deals that smaller independent firms couldn't. They tapped into a whole new industry, tied directly to tourism, which fuels the economies of hundreds of countries in the Caribbean. Anyway, I took over the finances end of it and it was really lucrative for a while. But then the recession hit and the tourism industry clammed up. Anyone who was traveling was going for minimum deals with agents they knew locally. We're breaking the firm up next month."

"Wow," Logan said. "Tough break."

"Well what about you? I thought you'd sooner kill yourself than give up California." Logan scoffed and let out his breath. "Me too. But despite everything with my dad, I do care about the company. I can't let Greenfield just swoop in and turn it into Greenfield Publishing Groups. My grandfather Elias would have a heart attack."

"Might put him out of his misery."

"Yeah. But I think I have a way to keep him in his misery, and keep myself out of it." Logan smiled at Josh, who knew inherently that this somehow involved him further.

"I'm listening," Josh said.

"My dad is going to be handling the Internet publishing companies as a branch called eHPG. I still retain seventy percent ownership of the shares. My father will own the other thirty. In a few months, I'll be helping him launch eHPG as the online version of all the newspapers we own."

"So where do I come in?" asked Josh.

"Well while I'm getting this off the ground from the east coast, and him from the west coast, I need you here. I want HPG to stay in the family, and you're just the man for the job. Except we'd be making you the third partner."

Josh's eyes went wide. "My father is going to kill me. It's perfect."

Logan laughed. "I thought so too. Now all we need is to get your lawyers and my lawyers together, and we'll be adding your last name to the masthead of the company."

"Oh Logan I wouldn't want you to do that. From a business standpoint, it would reflect negatively on the company. The public won't know what's going on here. They'll see it as a merger to save the company financially, and you'll probably lose loyal customers to other newspapers who aren't in trouble."

Logan nodded. "You see that's why I'm hiring you."

Josh smiled. "And you? Are you gonna stick around here, Mr. President?"

"No. I'll be the official president, but you'll be doing my job as well. The board will be your advisors and of course I'm just a phone call away. I'm working on buying a two-story building in Preston to house the prisoners and servers."

By prisoners, he meant employees, eliciting a laugh from Josh. When he caught his breath, he said, "Preston? That's an hour and a half away from Hartford."

"Yes, but its only fifteen minutes away from Stars Hollow."

Josh smiled at his brother-in-law, knowing what he planned to do. "All right. I have to get going. I'll see you at the board meeting on Monday. Oh, Honor wanted me to ask if you and Rory were free tomorrow night. She wants to go out to dinner. She said her and Rory had long-standing plans."

"I think Rory and I can get out of her grandparent's dinner tomorrow. I'll ask her later."

Josh left and Logan took one reluctant glance at his cluttered desk. His hand briefly hovered over a stack of mail but he abruptly stood up, grabbed his briefcase and left without touching his work. Soon, he wouldn't have to worry about it.

* * *

It was past dark by the time Logan got to Stars Hollow. He knew Rory was probably staying there and he didn't want to waste time by going back to their apartment. As he slammed the door to the limo and stood on the soft grass, a light glow emitted from the inside of the Crap Shack. There was a tiny square of flashing images from the TV coming through the window.

He walked onto the porch and opened the door that he knew was rarely locked. Luke was asleep on the couch and Lorelai was watching the news. She turned her groggy eyes on whoever was walking into her home.

"Hey Logan," she said quietly.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"No that's okay. Luke and Rory are the ones who are sleeping. I think she just turned out the light a few minutes ago if you want to wake her," she said, rising gently from the couch and walking towards Logan.

"I'll let her sleep. Is there any coffee?" he said, slightly surprised that he was craving coffee and not tea for once.

Lorelai laughed. "In this house? I made a fresh pot three minutes ago."

Logan left his briefcase by the door and followed Lorelai into the kitchen. He sank down at the kitchen table and started to loosen his tie. Lorelai placed a white mug in front of him as she took a seat with her own cup of coffee. Logan took three long sips, letting the aroma and warmth engulf him.

"Rough night?" Lorelai asked.

Logan looked at her for a moment. "Is Rory mad at me?" he countered, without answering the question.

Lorelai inhaled, letting the air fill her lungs slowly before replying. "I think she would have liked an explanation before her husband just ran out of a diner and went god-knows-where, not coming home until twelve thirty in the morning."

Logan grimaced. "About that—"

"No offense, but I don't want to hear it. Though I'm sure Rory would love to." Logan nodded slowly. "Can I ask you something?" he said cautiously.

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."

"Rory doesn't really want to move to California, does she?"

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that question?"

"I do. I know in my heart that she doesn't want to go. That's why I called off the plans."

Lorelai was shocked. She underestimated Logan. She had not honestly expected him to do that for Rory. "Why?" was all she could manage amidst all her various thoughts.

"I figured out another way. A way that will make her happy and me as well."

"So if you knew the answer, why'd you ask?" Lorelai said, returning to the previous bit of conversation.

"I was really looking for your opinion on it."

"Oh Logan. I couldn't tell my daughter who came to me worrying about her first major life decision to be made with her husband that it was a bad idea. I couldn't tell her because it would have been a lie. It wouldn't have been a bad idea, just not a healthy one—for me. Of course I want to keep Rory here, as close to me as possible. But I have to let you guys figure that out together now. It can't be Rory and me against you. That's too much closeness."

"Is living in Stars Hollow too much 'closeness?'"

Lorelai almost choked on her coffee. "I beg your pardon?"

"If Rory and I moved here, how would you feel about that?"

"Do you even have to ask?! She didn't even tell me it was a possibility! I—"

"She doesn't know about any of this. She doesn't know that I called off California or about Stars Hollow. I was hoping to talk to her about it, but everything with my dad happened within a span of maybe five hours this afternoon."

"What exactly happened?"

"The company and I ousted him. He's renting the California house from me and he's merging my two Internet publishing companies into the west coast branch of eHPG. Josh is taking over for the two of us at the company with minimal involvement of myself, and I'll be focusing on the eastern branch of eHPG from a building in Preston."

"That's like fifteen minutes from here!"

"That was the general idea."

"Wow. How'd Mitchum take it?"

"Surprisingly well. I think it almost came as a relief to him. He told me he was proud of me… I guess for finally standing up to him."

"I think you should tell Rory. She'll want to hear it."

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to keep it a secret for the next month or so."

Lorelai looked at Logan, surprised. "I think not telling Rory just about breaks every husband rule, not to mention the fact that it's a major breach of the Mom Code."

"Please Lorelai. Think of how excited she'll be when she thinks we're packing up the car to move to California and it takes only an hour to get to our new house."

Lorelai thought about it for a minute. She sighed. "I'll try. But this means no grandparents either. The minute they hear about this, there's no keeping it from Rory."

"Scouts honor," Logan said, holding up his hand.

Lorelai nodded. "Okay Huntzberger. We had coffee together so it's a deal."

Logan smiled at his mother-in-law's fiendish love for the aromatic liquid and the bond it created between them.

A few minutes later, Lorelai shook Luke awake and he followed her heavily up the stairs. Logan quietly opened the door to Rory's old room where she was sleeping, delicately perched amongst the pillows.

He moved towards the side of the bed she wasn't occupying and stripped down to his underwear. He slid under the covers and took her in his arms.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear.

"Where were you?" she said, her speech muffled by the pillow and her sleepiness.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. Go back to sleep."

"Mmph," she said, falling easily back into the twilight zone. Logan, exhausted from the drama, drifted off to sleep with ease.

* * *

**A/N: I know that the house Logan initially mentions in the show is in Palo Alto, but I just couldn't see someone like Mitchum living there, so I changed it. Anyway, your thoughts and comments are always, always much appreciated. I love reading your reviews! **


	14. We Can Work it Out

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

**A/N: Credit to the Beatles' tune for the title. As you can tell, I love movies and music, mostly music from the 60s.** **Happy reading!**

* * *

Early the next morning, Rory and Logan were on their way back to their apartment via Frank and the limo loaded with their cargo. Logan looked across the car to Rory who was staring out the window. She hadn't said much all morning.

"Rory, you can't stay mad at me forever. If you would just let me explain—"

"Logan, you can't just run off and come back, hold me in your arms and think everything will be forgiven. That's not how this works."

"How what works?"

"Our marriage! I've spent the past three years of my life with you, but only one week being married to you and you're already falling back into your old habits! Running off when the inspiration strikes was the old Logan. I want the one that I married—the one who talks to me before he scares the hell out of me and goes away."

"Ace, why are you so upset?" He moved across the car to sit next to her. He put his arm around her shoulder, but hers remained stoically crossed, her gaze trained on the tainted scenery.

"Because," she said, her voice burdened with anger. "I don't want to wake up when I'm thirty five and wonder where you've gone or when you left or why you left."

"You won't ever have to do that."

"But I'm scared that I _will_."

"If you would let me talk, I might have some good news for you."

"What are you talking about?" she said, her clipped tone still conveying anger.

"I spoke to my dad. That's where I went when I left the diner yesterday."

She imperceptibly glanced in Logan's direction. "What happened?"

"The company ousted him. He is going to move out to California with us and help me with my Internet publishing business. Josh is taking over in our absence and once it's off the ground, my dad is moving back east. Hopefully by then, he can safely work under Josh without the IRS hounding him."

Rory was silent as she stared at Logan. "He's coming to California with us? Are you okay with that?"

"I devised the plan. We honestly don't have a choice. If we leave him at HPG, the IRS could kill the whole company. And I can't just leave him to fend for himself. I mean, he's set financially, for now, but if he doesn't have something to do with himself, we'll all regret it. It'll just be for a couple months. Eventually, we'll be Mitchum-free."

Rory nodded, absorbing Logan's words placidly. She stretched her neck towards Logan and kissed him. He was pleasantly surprised. "You are one of the most incredibly sweet, thoughtful, intelligent men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing."

"Thank you," Logan said smiling. "I love you too. I guess this means you're not mad at me anymore?"

Rory shot him a dry look, telling him not to press his luck. "I assume you're going to California with Mitchum to sign for the house?"

"Nope. His plane leaves today, and the only person going with him is his lawyer. And, you and I have a good reason to get out of Friday night dinner. Josh and Honor are taking us up on our long-standing plans."

Rory didn't respond for a minute. "Okay I forgive you. What time is dinner?"

Logan laughed and gently pushed Rory's head onto his shoulder, where it stayed for the remainder of the car ride.

* * *

Rory and Logan arrived back at their apartment, and Logan immediately went to change out of his suit. Rory dropped her bag on the kitchen counter and hit the blinking red light on the answering machine. "You have four new messages. Message one,"

_"Rory, this is Hugo Gray. I had time to look over the portfolio you gave me at lunch a few weeks ago, and we'd be thrilled to have you covering the campaign trail for the online magazine if you're interested. Give me a call. I think you have my number, but just in case it's 555-743-0081"_

"Message two,"

_"This is Cathy Brice from the Providence Journal Bulletin calling for Rory Gilmore. You interviewed for a reporting position a couple of weeks ago and you've got the job. Give me a call at 555-642-9931."_

"Message three,"

_"Logan, Rory, it's Finn. I know you guys just got back, but dear old Dad has whisked me off to Australia for a few weeks for a prolonged business trip. I'll be back before you leave for Cali though so we must see each other. Cheerio mates!"_

Rory rolled her eyes at her spontaneous friend. He never stopped moving. She shifted her weight to her other foot and listened to the last message. "Message four,"

_"Ms. Gilmore, this is Linda Jones, Mr. Keller's secretary. He wanted me to call and inform you that he received and reviewed your portfolio, and he would be thrilled to have you on staff at The New York Times. Please give us a call back at your earliest convenience to discuss the details of the position. I can be reached between the hours of nine a.m. and eight p.m. My number is 555-770-2677 extension 002. "_

"Hey who called?" Logan said, coming out of the bedroom. Rory slammed her hand down on the speaker of the machine, as if covering it would make the least bit of difference. She recovered quickly.

"Um no one. I mean not no one, but…Finn called and…"

"Okay, you're acting weird. Something you're not telling me Ace?"

Rory laughed nervously. "Yes. There is something I'm not telling you."

"Okay, well are you gonna tell me now that you're busted or am I going to have to wrestle it out of you?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait until dinner to tell you?"

Logan looked around. "No, I'm pretty sure I'd like to know now, just in case you drop some big bombshell that I'm totally not prepared for."

"Okay. The _Providence Journal_ called. And so did Hugo Gray. And…"

"And…" Logan said, wondering why Rory was withholding information about her possible careers from him.

"…And Bill Keller. Well not him, his secretary. But it was his office just the same."

Logan was stunned. "Bill Keller. As in _the_ Bill Keller that we met yesterday?"

"Well I didn't expect him to call so soon. When I went in to see him, he said he'd love to see my work so I e-mailed the pdf version of my portfolio and he must have looked it over extremely quickly."

"And you didn't want to tell me about this because…?"

"Because I got the job. Not only did I get the job from the _Times_, I also got the job at the _Journal_ and a job following the campaign trail from Hugo Gray."

"Ace, this is amazing! You got _three_ job offers. Why are you acting like this?"

"Because we're moving to _California_! Don't you understand that I have to give up all of these positions? Instead of calling every newspaper on the East coast for a job, I have to call every newspaper on the West coast. _That's_ why I didn't want to tell you. Because I didn't want you to feel guilty about California… because you need it more than I need a job at the _Times_. And I didn't want to get all excited, knowing I have to call these people and say, 'nope sorry, I'm moving to California. Gee I hope the _Chronicle_ is hiring.'"

"You're mad," Logan said, wincing as he made the only observation he could at the moment.

"I'm not mad Logan. I'm disappointed. I…"

"What?"

"I…didn't want to get engaged for this very reason, Logan. But please don't take that how it sounds. I love you, that's why this is so incredibly hard for me. If I had said no, I would have lost you and that would have hurt more than having to do what I'm doing. I'm allowed to be disappointed. I will get over it, and I have you to help me." Rory collapsed on the couch in the living room and let out frustrated breath.

Logan sat down gingerly next to her. "Do you want me to—"

Without warning, Rory turned to his shoulder and cried. She didn't want to cry. It should have been like ripping off a band-aid. She loved Logan and that was obviously much more important than any job. But inside, she couldn't help but feel like she was giving away a piece of her dream for him, even though she knew that was absolutely not his intention. Wasn't this why she had avoided certain relationships in the past? So she would never have to sacrifice herself for someone else? But wasn't that the give and take and joy and heartbreak that you had to go through in a marriage?

"Listen," Logan soothed. "You don't have to say no to _everyone_. Call the _Journal_ and the _Times_, as much as it hurts, and turn them down. But you can work for Hugo from anywhere. Take the job and go on the campaign trail. You and I can make it work. I made a promise to you too, to follow you with all the up and going. So you'll be going, but I'll be waiting in California when you come home."

Rory lifted her head from Logan's shoulder. "Really?" she said.

"Yes. Really."

Rory wiped her nose with her sleeve. "This is why I love you, you know that right?"

"I know," Logan said as he took Rory in his arms and hugged her. He squeezed his eyes shut with the same intensity. It took all his effort not to tell Rory that she could have any job she pleased, since they were staying in Connecticut. He moved away from her. "Okay. You go make your calls and get dressed. I have to do some work, and then we can leave at five thirty."

"Okay," Rory said, excitedly jumping up from the couch. Logan smiled after her, and as soon as she disappeared into the bedroom, he pulled out his Blackberry. He composed an e-mail to Hugo Gray._ "Hello Hugo. I know you offered Rory a position, and she is thrilled. She will probably be calling you in a few minutes to accept, but please offer the position to someone else. Unfortunately, she is unaware that we are not moving to California as expected, and for personal reasons, she can't know. This also means she has another opportunity lined up, and I would really appreciate your secrecy in this matter. Again, Rory was honored to get your call, and we both know she would have done an amazing job. Thanks, Logan."_

Logan sent the e-mail and then promptly dialed Mr. Gallagher. The phone rang for agonizingly long seconds before he picked up.

"Hank Gallagher,"

"Hank, it's Logan. Is Mr. Keller available? It's an emergency."

"He's on a call, but I think I can get him. Hold on."

Logan waited a few minutes and then Hank came back on. "Logan, I'm transferring you."

"Great," he said, eager to get to Mr. Keller before Rory did.

"Mr. Huntzberger," Bill said when he got on the phone. "Your wife is on the other line."

Logan's skin blanched. "Bill, I know she is going to turn down the job offer, and you have to let her believe that she is doing just that. But you also have to consider the position filled. She will be taking it, just not right now."

"I don't understand Mr. Huntzberger. It is a straightforward matter. She either is or isn't taking the job."

"I know sir. But she thinks we are moving to California, which is why she would be turning it down. I can't tell her that we're not moving yet, but once she knows, she'll want the job. You're her first choice, the dream job she's wanted since she was old enough to read, and if I screw this up for her, I think she'll kill me."

There was silence on the other end.

"Bill…Mr. Keller?" Logan said into the quiet.

Then there was sudden and inexplicable laughter.

As nervous as he was, Logan joined in, although he was unsure as to why.

"Okay, I'll play along. I'm always game for a good ruse."

"Thank you so much Mr. Keller. I'll be in touch." Logan ended the call, incredulous as to the state of affairs that had just transpired in the last ten minutes. Logan nonchalantly flicked on the TV in the living room, and Rory came out of the bedroom.

"I called Hugo and everything is all set. The _Journal_ knows and I called the _Times_. I got to speak to Mr. Keller himself. Although he kept me on hold for a very long time." Rory sat down next to Logan and snuggled closer to him. Logan wrapped her in his arms and moved a strand of hair out of her face.

"How rude of him. He doesn't know what he'll be missing."

"Yeah well I'm a hot commodity."

"That you are," Logan said, eyeing his wife.

Rory hit him playfully, but allowed him to tilt her chin up towards his face, so he could kiss her.

* * *

Lorelai and Luke stood at the threshold of the Gilmore mansion, a place they had stood many times before. They braced themselves for another lovely evening, unfortunately devoid of Logan and Rory as a buffer.

The evening went relatively well, in comparison to past meals. There was the usual silence at the dinner table, though the iciness down at Emily's end was far more apparent.

Lorelai sighed at regular intervals, trying to get a rise out of her mother—anything to break the oppressive silence. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Mother, is something bothering you that you would like to share with the rest of the class?"

"Don't patronize me Lorelai, I'm not a child. I just don't understand why Logan and Rory couldn't be here. They just got back from their honeymoon, don't they want to be with family?"

"They _are_ with family. They're with Logan's sister and brother-in-law. They're married now, they're gonna have to pick and choose and divvy up who gets to see who and when."

This silenced Emily further.

Thrown for a loop by her lack of response, Lorelai recoiled and continued eating, mumbling "good talk," under her breath.

The maid cleared the plates and Emily went to check on dessert in the kitchen. Lorelai followed to see what was really wrong with her.

"Mom, what's up with the Cold War freeze zone out there?"

"It's nothing, Lorelai. I don't know why you insist upon making an ordeal out of everything."

"Mom, everyone can see that you're upset. Talk to me. I thought we were past that point already."

Emily sighed. She looked pointedly at her daughter for a moment. She wasn't about to undo the progress they had made. "It's just that Rory's grown up so fast. Now she's married, they're moving to California, we're not seeing her as much when she is here and then she'll be gone. I won't ever get to see my great-grandchildren."

"Oh mom. Don't think like that. Rory loves you and yes, she has another life with Logan, but you'll see her. And you'll definitely get to see your great-grandchildren. Rory would get mobbed by Stars Hollow and half of Hartford if she didn't come home to show off the offspring, when it happens."

"I suppose you're right."

"And I'm still here. Luke and I aren't going anywhere."

"You and Luke? You're an item again?" Emily asked halfheartedly.

"Yes we're an 'item.'—By the way very weird that you used that expression."

"Just because I'm old, doesn't mean I'm not 'with it.'"

"Hate to break to you Mom, but yeah, you are, especially when you use expressions like 'with it.'" Lorelai started to guide her mother out the kitchen door and into the living room where Luke and Richard were enjoying postprandial drinks.

Lorelai sat across from Luke, shooting him a look that everything was fine and her mother was overreacting as usual.

Luke placed his beer down on the coffee table. "Richard, would you mind explaining this…stock portfolio thing to me? I heard some guys talking about it in the diner and it sounded interesting."

Richard looked up from his book, surprised. He placed his scotch down on a coaster. "You want to talk about stocks?"

"Sure," Luke said uneasily.

"Well," Richard said, closing his book and getting up. "Emily, Luke wants to talk about _stocks_. Luke, let's go to the study and I'll show you how to manage them online." As the two walked towards Richard's office, Richard turned his head to shoot his wife a pleasantly surprised look. Perhaps Luke wasn't the "diner dud" they made him out to be. Lorelai observed the exchange between her mother and father with a smile. They were starting to warm up to the idea of Luke.

* * *

"So if you click on this button here, you can see the growth of the stock over a certain period of time. This column is the name of the stock, here is the cost per share when I originally bought it, here's the total pay out and how the stock did in today's market. Here is the overall gain since I've owned it. The goal is to have all your total gains in green."

"Uh huh," said Luke, looking over Richard's shoulder at the computer. He nodded his head appropriately, but he was really just waiting for a break in the conversation to talk to Richard.

"This is—" Richard glanced at Luke to make sure he was paying attention. Seeing the disinterested look on his face and glazed eyeballs, Richard pulled off his glasses and turned fully to Luke. "You didn't ask to talk about stocks out of pure interest, did you?"

Luke looked embarrassed, but he nonetheless admitted that that was the case.

"Then what did you want to talk about?" asked Richard.

Luke was hesitant to begin. "Sir, I know we've had our differences in the past. And you are under no obligation to agree to this, because I know I broke your daughter's heart once, but…"

"What is it, Luke?" Richard was becoming annoyed with his rambling.

Luke tried to calm himself down. "I want to marry Lorelai. For real this time. And I know that we've only officially been back together for a short time, but I know in the near future, I'm going to want to propose. And I wanted to make sure you're okay with that."

Richard was silent for a moment. He stood from his desk chair. He walked towards Luke, looking as if he might simply ignore the inquiry and leave. Instead, Richard patted Luke's shoulder. "I've been waiting some time to hear you ask. Mind you, I don't think a 'no' would have deterred you, but at least you had the decency to inquire properly."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gilmore…was that a yes?"

"Of course. If it's my blessing you really need, then you have it. Lorelai deserves to be happy, and you unquestionably make her happy."

"Thank you, sir."

"Luke?"

"Yes Mr. Gilmore?" Luke said, turning back to face him after heading towards the door.

"It's Richard. We'll work our way up from there."

Luke smiled at his eventual father-in-law. "Okay, Richard."

"Now let's go. I believe Emily had Rhoda prepare crème brûlée for dessert."

* * *

Laughter consumed the four at the dinner table.

"…And then he just up and left. He said 'I'm outta here, and don't even think about calling me.'" Rory, Logan, and Honor laughed at the story Josh was telling. "And the best part was, he tripped on a chair on the way out of the office." More gut-splitting laughter.

"Josh, give me that guy's number, I'd love to hire him."

Josh laughed. "Fat chance."

Everyone caught his or her breath, and then Logan started to clink his champagne glass with his fork. "Okay, I'd like to propose a toast."

Everyone raised their glasses.

"First, congratulations to my new business partner and acting president of HPG." Everyone cheered for Josh, who was beaming with excitement.

"Second, Rory, congratulations on getting not one but three job offers and for settling on Hugo Gray's online magazine. The world has no idea what's coming to it. When you start writing about politics, you're going to take the world by storm."

Rory blew Logan a kiss.

Josh interjected, "And good luck to you guys in California. I know Honor is going to drag me for a visit as soon as humanly possible." Josh and Logan exchanged glances, communicating that the planned statement to keep Rory out of the loop had been perfectly executed.

"Here here," everyone cheered.

Rory and Josh tipped back their champagne, as did Logan, who looked across the table to his sister, as she tipped back her glass, but didn't actually drink anything.

"What, no celebratory bubbly? You love champagne," Logan commented.

Josh looked over at his wife as she placed the glass back on the table. She cleared her throat. "Well…" Josh took her hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. "What we have to celebrate shouldn't be celebrated with alcohol."

Rory and Logan looked at each other and then back to Honor. "Are you…?" Rory asked Honor. Honor nodded and Josh started laughing excitedly.

"We're pregnant!" she said, positively glowing.

"Congratulations!" Rory said. She reached across the table to give Honor a hug. "I'm so sad we won't be here. We'll have to video chat from California. This is so exciting!"

"Congratulations sis," Logan said. She smiled at him and gave a look like 'how could you keep her in the dark?'

The waiter came to collect the plates and Logan said, "We're going to need some dessert menus. Who wants crème brûlée?"

* * *

**A/N: As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts! I hope you enjoyed!**


	15. Parting is Such Bittersweet Sorrow

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GRILS,

**A/N: Credit to Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ for the title...kinda. Happy reading!**

* * *

"Logan, I'm going out with Honor for a little while. We're going baby shopping and then I'll pick up the cartons at U-Haul."

"Okay," he yelled back. He was feverishly typing away at his computer. "See you later, love you!" The door to their apartment slammed and Logan came out of the study. The house phone rang and Logan reached for the portable phone next to the couch in the living room.

"Is she gone?" Lorelai said when Logan picked it up.

"What if she had answered the phone?"

"I hadn't thought that through," Lorelai said, shrugging indifferently.

Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. "She just left. I'll be there in half an hour."

"Sounds good Holmes."

"Bye Watson." Logan chuckled as he hung up. Gilmore girls will be Gilmore girls.

As soon as his conversation with Lorelai was finished, Logan dialed Sarah Callor, the realtor. "Sarah, can you meet me and my mother-in-law in Stars Hollow in half an hour?"

"Yes, that can be arranged Mr. Huntzberger. Will your wife be joining us?"

"No, she doesn't know that I'm looking for a house in Stars Hollow."

"Very good Mr. Huntzberger. See you in half an hour."

Logan hung up the phone, grabbed his car keys and left.

* * *

While Logan took the half-hour, relatively scenic drive from Hartford to Stars Hollow, he thought about how he wouldn't have to make the trip much longer, save for the Friday night dinners. Just then, a call came through on the hands-free in his BMW.

"Logan my man. How is married life treating you?"

"Very well Colin. Rory and my sister are out baby shopping and I am on the way to survey the Rabbit's Foot."

"The Rabbit's Foot?"

"Yes the super-secret house I am buying for us in Stars Hollow. Rory has no idea."

"Always the con man, aren't you. Finn would be proud."

"How is he? I trust he hasn't woken up on the wrong side of the bed with any Great Whites in Aussie?"

"No sharks. Plenty of women I'm sure, but no sharks. But I'm calling to give you a status report on Operation Mitchum."

"Yes I haven't heard from my father during the three weeks he's been in California. How is it going?"

"Actually quite well. It seems being away from everyone was a good move. The new employees started yesterday, earlier than expected, but your dad has been working really hard to get it off the ground. eHPG is going to be a great little business venture."

"I'm glad to hear it. Who do we have signed on?"

"Mostly small local papers looking for a little increased publicity on the web, but give it another month or so to take off and you'll have the _Chronicle_ knocking at your door. How's it coming on your end?"

"The Preston location opens next week. They're moving the equipment in as we speak."

"This is great man. It's what you always wanted."

"Yeah. Hey, listen, thanks for being my 'agent' in California. I needed someone to look after my dad, and thanks for stepping up to the plate."

"No problem. I have to be out here anyway to work for my dad's law firm on a huge environmental case."

"I wish you could work for eHPG."

"Don't tempt me. I'm this close to throwing in the towel, and watching it land at my dad's feet."

"Whenever you're ready, I'll have a job waiting for you."

"Thanks. I gotta go but as soon as Finn gets back and you're all set with 'The Rabbit's Foot' we'll get together. I miss my brothers."

"Don't worry. We'll plan something. Maybe get the LDB back together."

"Awesome dude. I'll see you soon."

"You're already starting to sound like a surfer. Bye."

"Bye."

Logan ended the call just as he pulled up in front of the Gilmore home in Stars Hollow. Lorelai was playing with Davey on the porch. Sookie and Jackson were inside arguing about an up coming menu choice for an event at the inn.

"Hey Lorelai," Logan said.

"Davey, look who it is! It's Uncle Logan!" Lorelai said with childish enthusiasm. Davey ran towards Logan who hoisted him up in the air airplane style.

"Hey Davey! You're getting so big! What's up?"

"The sky," Davey said precociously.

Logan laughed and put him down. He ran in the house and attached himself to his mother's leg.

"You're a natural," Lorelai commented.

"With what?" Logan asked.

"Kids."

"Kids are easy. It's the adults who are complicated."

"Yeah, well…so when is the shelter-finder coming?"

"The _realtor_ should be here any minute."

Sarah pulled up in a black Toyota minutes later.

"Sarah, this is my mother-in-law, Lorelai Gilmore."

Sarah shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you. You're not going to lead us into the woods and stuff us into an oven, are you?" Lorelai asked quickly.

"I beg your pardon?" said Sarah.

"She means to ask if we're looking for houses very far from here."

"No, there are a couple for sale within walking distance."

"Great," Logan said as Sarah started off down the street, Lorelai and Logan close behind. Logan shot Lorelai a look.

"What, it just seemed a little Hansel and Gretle-ish."

Logan put his head in his hands and laughed.

* * *

Lorelai, Logan, and Sarah had already seen four houses. The first two were too far from the town, and had no backyard space. The third was more geographically desirable, but it only had two bedrooms and needed a lot of work. They had been doing a lot of walking and with the eighty-degree weather of early August beating down on them, they were exhausted.

"There is one more that I think fits the bill, but it's a little out of the price range you had given me."

"How much more?" he asked.

"No sir. It's quite a bit lower."

Logan smiled. "Let's just take a look. Money really isn't an object."

They were in the town center, and down a block to the left and two blocks to the right was a row of homes that had been built within the last ten years.

The trio turned the corner onto Cortland Street. The street had a cul-de-sac, and only five large homes on it. The last one on the left before the cul-de-sac was for sale.

"Okay. Nice street, plenty of front and backyard space…close to the town…" Lorelai commented. Logan started to become dismayed after the first two homes were duds, but he had a strangely good feeling about this one.

"Who's moving out?" Logan asked Sarah.

"A couple in their sixties. They're moving to North Carolina. Their daughter just moved there and they want to be closer to her."

"How sweet," Lorelai remarked.

Logan looked around, surveying the outside. The house was white and there were plenty of tall windows that offered nice views of the street and woods behind the home. The clapboard siding was a little worn, but there were quaint red shutters on the windows that made it seem homey. It felt like a place he could see himself coming home to every day.

"Shall we go inside?" asked Sarah. Logan and Lorelai followed Sarah up the long, brick front walk. She turned the key in the white storm door and it opened into a comfortable foyer.

"So the foyer goes right into the living room which has sliding glass doors out to the backyard. The light flows right through the house, it's really quite nice in the middle of the day. The kitchen is off to the left, and there is a small den attaching it to the living room. They're willing to sell with the built-in appliances."

Logan looked through each room Sarah described. In his mind, he was reconstructing the home as he saw himself and Rory living in it, but it didn't need all that much work.

"There's a study and attached bathroom to the right and across the hall is the guest bedroom."

"Ooh there's a breakfast nook, Logan," Lorelai said. "I'm picturing Rory sitting here with her coffee and laptop."

Logan smiled at the image. "Can we see the upstairs?"

"Sure." Sarah led the way up the wooden staircase. The floorboards were a little creaky, but it gave the house more charm. "They just installed the wood flooring maybe five years ago. It's light so you can stain it if you so choose. We have three bedrooms and two bathrooms up here, a linen closet and separate closet for a washer and dryer." Sarah waited at the top of the stairs while Logan and Lorelai inspected the rooms.

The master bedroom was decorated nicely, not that it mattered since Logan was sure Emily would have decorators in the instant he closed on the house. Logan kind of liked the idea of keeping the color scheme however—it had light blue wallpaper with a swirl pattern and brown trim. They had kept the honey-colored wood flooring, but thrown an area rug over much of the floor. Light was streaming in from the windows and even though he knew it wasn't coming with the furniture, the beach-house style furniture gave the space a great feel. Logan closed the door and Lorelai followed Logan down the hall to one of the other two bedrooms. She opened the door to a baby blue colored room, presumably a nursery. Sarah poked her head in. "They made a room for their grandson before they decided to just move to North Carolina."

Lorelai's breath was caught in her throat. The house was perfect for Logan and Rory. Seeing the room like that was especially endearing to Logan who was constantly reminded of what his and Rory's life would hopefully be like in a few years, when he and Rory were parents themselves.

Logan turned to Sarah. "I'll take it. How much are we talking?" Sarah laughed at the reversed order of sentences, but she was overjoyed to make the sale. The house had had relatively few bidders, and Logan was willing to go slightly above the ask. Once Sarah put a call in to the owners, who were ecstatic, she and Logan agreed that to meet next week to sign the official papers. She did however put a "SOLD" sticker over the sign on the front lawn.

On the way back to the Crap Shack, Lorelai turned to Logan. "Rory's gonna love it. You did good kid."

"Thanks, but I couldn't have picked one without your input."

"You would have done fine without me. You know Rory, and may I say you have impeccable taste in real estate. She's really lucky to have a guy like you."

"No. I'm really lucky to have her. She was ready to give up everything to go to California. Moving here was the least I could do. Besides, it gets me out of Hartford."

"Yeah. You can't stay there too long. It's like mercury poisoning. It makes you crazy. Luckily I got out in time."

"Sure you did," Logan said, smiling.

Lorelai shot him a look as they approached her home.

* * *

"Logan, I'm home!" Rory came through the front door, her arms laden with the rest of the necessary cardboard boxes. Their living room was filled with them, and the only items not packed away were the bed and couch. Those were being sent separately to California.

Logan didn't answer, so Rory dropped her bags in the bedroom, where she saw a note that he had left, saying he had a meeting to go to and would be home a little later. Rory started packing up what was left—the picture frames and knick-knacks that were going in the car with them. Rory held picture after picture—many of them pictures of her youth, posing with Lane or showing off a toothy grin to an oddly placed camera. Logan had fewer memorabilia. The pictures he was in always included Rory, except for a small chronology of the Huntzberger family Christmas picture.

Rory was just laying the bubble wrap on top of the now-filled cartons when Logan walked in, whistling and swinging his car keys.

"Hey babe," Rory called to him.

He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, virtually the only uncovered and available surface.

"Hey," he said, surveying their living room turned minefield.

"Everything go okay at your meeting?"

"What?" Logan said, stopping halfway to Rory.

"Your meeting. You left a note saying you had a meeting."

"Oh," Logan recovered uneasily. "Everything's okay. Josh couldn't find a box of archived editorials and the public relations department needed it to construct the ad campaign to reface HPG." Crisis averted.

"How ever will they function without you?"

"They'll figure it out. So, can I help you with those?"

Rory threw him the roll of bubble wrap. She sat back and watched him effortlessly pack and seal the remaining boxes.

"Nice job Gus."

"Gus?" Logan questioned.

"I don't know. It sounded like the name of a UPS postman."

"Right," Logan said. He had learned to brush off that which he did not understand from the world of Gilmore. It happened often. "So," Logan said, getting off the floor and hoisting the box on top of another stack. "That was the last one. We are officially done packing."

"Yeah," Rory said, somewhat somberly. "It looks…empty."

Logan looked around in silence. There were tiny marks on the walls where artwork once hung. The kitchen cabinets were empty, save for paper plates to hold them over for the next week. He couldn't help but be a little nostalgic. He had lived in this apartment since his third year at Yale, and it was the first place he and Rory had shared together. He came up behind Rory and wrapped his arms around her waist. He settled his chin on her shoulder and she molded into him. They were most at home here.

"Remember the birthday parties you threw me? And the London party?" Logan asked her.

He felt her smile, even though he couldn't see her face. "Yeah. Wow, that seems like forever ago."

"I don't think so. I remember it perfectly."

"I wore a hot blonde wig. Of course you remember it perfectly," Rory said cheekily.

"That's not why," Logan said. He walked around the space, the blueprint of their college years there imprinted in his mind. "I remember the phone booth you put here," he said, pointing the toe of his shoe at the spot. "The flags you put up everywhere, the British guards and The Queen costumes you made everyone wear."

Rory, too, became consumed with the memory. "We sat on the couch and I offered you British delicacies."

Logan smiled. "I asked you to tell me not to go."

"And I wouldn't do it."

Logan looked back at her, his trained gaze on the window broken. "You always knew what was best for me, even when I didn't know it myself."

"We make a pretty good team," she said.

"Yeah we do," he said, a note of despondency in his voice borne by the chill of the empty apartment, the air seeming to grow bubble-like around them, threatening to pop.

"Hey," Rory said coming over and placing a hand on his arm. "All former glory is not lost. I know you told me to send the suit of armor to Finn, but I took Fred apart gingerly and packed him in one of the boxes marked for California."

Logan kissed her and pulled her into him. "The next place will feel like home too. You'll see," Logan said, trying to convince himself as much as he was her. He hoped that was true.

"We'll see," Rory said absent-mindedly. They weren't in much of a "going out on the town" mood. They opted for a movie and then an early bedtime. Logan had another week of firming up HPG's affairs and Rory was busy doing preliminary research on the political platforms of the candidates she would be covering. They both had good reason to hit the hay early.

* * *

"Do we really have to go?" Rory asked Logan as they neared Stars Hollow in the torrential rain.

"You're asking me if we really have to go to one of _your_ town events? I thought you loved the town events."

"Yeah, but I know that you just tolerate them, and it's probably the last thing you want to do the day before we leave for California."

"Rory, it's fine. We're going. And I more than tolerate them. They're…fun." _Besides, I'll have to learn to like them_.

"Okay, whatever. Don't say I didn't give you a way out."

"Trust me, I won't." Logan said as he passed the "Welcome to Stars Hollow" sign.

Rory watched the scenery placidly, having lived in it her entire life. So when she saw something out of the ordinary, it jolted her from her seat. She sat up suddenly and slammed her hands on the dashboard, clawing for a better look out the tainted windows of the car. "Oh my god," she said, her mouth falling open, unable to form more words.

Logan too was dumbfounded. "How did they…"

There were no words to express what the town had done. He pulled into a spot and got out of the car slowly, in shock. Zach and Jackson met Logan and Rory with umbrellas, and they all retreated quickly to the safety of the tent.

"Wow," was all Rory could say to the town who had come out in droves to say goodbye to her and Logan. "Guys, this is truly amazing. You didn't have to do all this."

"Yes we did," proclaimed Miss Patty, who was up on Taylor's podium, much to his displeasure. "You're our little Rory. What kind of quirky suburban town would we be if we didn't throw you a going away party? You've been a part of our family for your entire life. We've seen you go from stage to stage—dance recitals to town plays to high school president to college graduation. And now, even though we all hate Logan for taking you away," everyone laughed, including Logan, "we are here to see you off on this next stage of your life."

Rory was crying, but inexplicably happy. Miss Patty stepped down to a chorus of clapping and Rory met her with a hug.

"Speech, speech, speech, speech…" Kirk started chanting. The town joined in and Rory got up to the mike. Through her tears, she managed to keep it together long enough to deliver one of her infamous orations.

"This is so…unexpected and…wonderful at the same time. All of you are such incredible people and a huge part of my life, but I have to hand it to one person in particular—my mom." Rory met her mother's eyes in the crowd—the same electric blue eyes that Rory shared, the same eyes that were shedding translucent tears. "She deserves all the credit for the person that I am today. She raised me and surrounded me with all of this and I couldn't have asked for a more precious gift. I know it's going to be hard being away from the town and Connecticut, but Logan and I both know that she's given us invaluable tools to survive anywhere we are. I love you Mom."

Rory stepped down, and after more clapping Lane got the music going in full swing to lighten the mood. Logan had found Miss Patty's infamous punch and was giving that a taste test. Rory meandered through the crowd towards her mom who wrapped her in a tight hug.

"Mom, how did you do all this? The food, the music, the people…the tent, god the tent must have taken days to finish!"

"It wasn't me babe. It was all Luke. Last night when he saw it was gonna rain he shamelessly knocked on people's doors and asked for scrap cloth. He stayed up all night sewing it with fishing line because he refused to let me help him. He said I've been working too hard at the inn and deserved a break."

"That's quite a man you have there," Rory said.

"You didn't do too bad yourself."

"Can't argue there," Rory said, briefly looking over at Logan who was dancing with Lane, already a little tipsy from the punch. She laughed at his antics and said hello to some friends she used to know at Stars Hollow High. She caught up with a lot of people, but she wanted to find Luke and thank him. She made her way over to Luke and her mom. As she crossed the street, she felt a tap on the shoulder and the sound of someone clearing his throat. She turned around.

"Grandpa? Grandma?"

Lorelai parted with Rory as she went off to chat with some friends. Lorelai saw Davey making a break for the dance floor and Sookie from afar trying to chase after him. She scooped him up in her arms and brought him over to his mother who was out of breath. She deposited him in her grateful grasp just as Jackson came back to report that he had no luck finding Davey.

Lorelai wandered through the throng of people, politely returning hellos and declining invitations to dance and make a "Morey sandwich" with Babette. She crossed the quiet street and met Luke as he was exiting the diner with a few bags of burger rolls and fresh patties. She came up behind him and turned his face towards hers as she kissed him. He dropped the bag of rolls to take hold of her cheek, but he held fast to the burgers as best as he could.

Lorelai finally broke from the kiss, as she and Luke needed some oxygen.

"That was… what was that for?" Luke said, out of breath.

"For being you. And for staying up all night and sewing this tent and cooking all this food and instigating a hokey town event that you would _never_ attend but that everyone else, especially me, loves."

Luke smiled sheepishly, trying not to blush as he hid his free hand behind his back, concealing his bandaged sewing war wounds from view.

"It was nothing."

"No Luke it was something. A very big something that means so much to Rory and Logan and me. It's something only you would think of. You always come to the rescue."

"I love you…" Luke trailed off, as he saw Richard Gilmore approaching the couple from behind Lorelai.

Lorelai, confused, turned around and saw her father. "Dad? What are you doing here?"

"Are your mother and I not allowed to attend an event wishing our granddaughter well on her travels? Luke invited us," he added before Lorelai could ask.

Lorelai briefly glanced at Luke who was redder than before.

Richard continued. "Anyhow, may your mother and I steal you away for a minute?" Richard asked, really looking at Luke. Luke simply extended his hand by way of permission, and Lorelai followed her father to where Emily and Rory were already standing.

"Lorelai, this is really a lovely party you've thrown for Rory and Logan."

"It was all Luke, Mom. I had very little to do with it."

"Hmph," Emily said, still warming to Luke's increased presence in her daughter's life.

Richard gave his wife a glare, seeming to ask her not to make that an issue today. He then turned to the younger Gilmore girls. "Lorelai, what your mother and I really came here to say is that, regardless of your input, it takes a remarkable person to inspire all of this."

Lorelai had tears in her eyes. Her relationship with her mother was better than it had been, but she sensed there was always some residual resentment from her father of how she left Hartford. "Thanks Dad," she said, wanting to hug her father. Richard, too, was on the verge of tears, so he waved her off. She smiled at the man who had tried his entire life, in his own way, to protect her.

"Oh Richard you're going to make me cry," Emily exclaimed.

Rory watched the three of them try and hold in their emotion. "Strangely, this is the closest to a Norman Rockwell Christmas this family has ever had. Who'd have thought it'd happen under a patchwork tent at a bon voyage barbeque." Her words sufficiently lightened the mood, as intended, with mild laughter.

Emily composed herself and looked at Rory. "It's an honor to be your grandmother Rory Gilmore."

"Grandma…I don't know what to say."

"You've said plenty. Just be sure to keep in touch…I'll miss that intellectual wit."

"What, my wit's not good enough for you?" Lorelai exclaimed.

"Not in the slightest," Emily said in dry jest. "Richard, we really should be going. We have the Tierney's grandson's graduation party to attend."

"Right. I'll meet you at the car Emily. I'll only be a moment." Richard disappeared, and Rory hugged her grandmother and made her way towards Lane.

Emily leaned in to Lorelai. "Have you given any more thought to my spa idea for the inn?"

Lorelai looked at her mother. "Why don't we talk about it at Friday night dinner, Mom?"

Emily was taken aback. "Oh. So I'll be expecting you at six thirty then?"

"Yes mom, as always, I will be there at six thirty."

"Good. No jeans."

"When have I ever worn jeans to Friday night dinner?"

"I don't know. It could very well be Rory who enforces the dress code. And with her gone…"

"Oh Mom," Lorelai said as she embraced her mother. "Don't worry. I'll only wear black spandex and a tube top."

Emily lifted her head to glare at Lorelai. "See you Friday," she said as she made her way towards the car to wait for Richard.

* * *

"Luke, thank you for the invitation. It was a fantastic party, and I heard you had a little something to do with it," Richard said to the man her daughter was in love with.

"Just a little."

"Well it was wonderful. You're the only one Emily and I can count on to keep us informed about these little town affairs."

"It's my pleasure sir—I mean Richard."

"It's much appreciated. And Emily and I discussed it and we want you to have this." Richard reached into his breast pocket and procured a navy velvet box. Luke's eyes widened. "It was Emily's grandmother's. She wanted it passed down and since Lorelai is our only daughter…"

Luke took the box carefully in his hands. "Richard, I really couldn't—"

"Nonsense, nonsense. Take it, I won't hear another word. I know you'll make her happy. And if you need a good jeweler to get it resized or reset just give me a call and I'll take care of it."

"Thank you," Luke said, shaking Richard's hand. "Lorelai and I will see you Friday?"

"See you Friday," Richard said, backing away and turning towards the car. Luke stared after him until the car had disappeared and then he went to find Lorelai.

"Did you give it to him?" Emily inquired.

"The deed is done."

Emily was silent, tight-lipped. She kept her arms crossed, her facial composure rigid. She did not let her exterior appearance reveal her emotions. Somewhere deep down, she supposed that she longed for Christopher, for that 'Max fellow' as she used to call him, for anyone but Luke to be in a position to propose. But closer to the surface, closer to the feelings that were more tangible and more willing to expose themselves was a desire to see her daughter blissfully happy, as she could never have been in Emily's Hartford world. And like it or not, Luke gave her that happiness.

Richard looked at his wife as they, always the socialites, moved on to the next event of the day.

* * *

The rest of the party passed in true Stars Hollow fashion, with too many odd occurrences to count or take note of. The rain had subsided and the stars actually started to peek through the blackness of the sky.

Logan was about ready to call it a night. "Rory, you ready to go?"

Rory looked around at the party, which had started to dwindle in population. "Yeah, just give me ten minutes."

"I'll be waiting in the gazebo, far away from that punch bowl…if you can call that acid punch."

Rory crossed the town square to Lane and Zach's house. Lane had gone home to check on her three boys, since Zach had taken over for the evening so she could man the DJ station.

Zach answered the doorbell when Rory rang. "Oh what's up Rory? Lane's right here, I'll get her."

Lane transferred Steve to her husband's arms, came out onto the porch and closed the door quietly. The two friends sat on the porch swing in silence, not sure how to really say goodbye.

"So," Lane started.

"So," Rory said with a sigh.

"God I can't believe you're moving to _California_. That's like rock star central."

"Yeah, I'm living your dream," Rory commented, thinking of how much her and Zach would soak up the Cali music culture.

Lane glanced at her best friend—the best friend who had confided all her secrets in her since she was five years old.

"But are you living your dream?"

"My dream is with Logan. I would be lying if I said the dream included California over Connecticut, but I've come to terms with it."

"Well don't get too comfortable. I'm gonna need to see my best friend once in a while. My boys are gonna need to grow up knowing their aunt."

Rory smiled at the endearing term. "Don't worry. Your kids will be well versed in the way of Gilmore."

"Doesn't that sound weird?" Lane exclaimed.

"What, that you have kids?"

"Yeah. I mean, I have a husband and twin boys in there, you're married and moving to California. It's just…when did we grow up?"

Rory shook her head, not knowing what to say.

"Hey babe I kinda need your help in here," Zach said, sticking his head out the kitchen window to talk to Lane.

"Hey, my best friend is going away for a very, very long time. Give me five minutes!"

"Okay, okay, take your time. Bye Rory, stay cool and uh…stay in touch?" Zach said, grasping at words.

"Okay Zach, take care of Lane here."

Zach nodded and closed the window.

Rory chuckled at how sweet and shy he was. "I actually have to get going. I left Logan by the gazebo. He's still a little shocked from the punch."

Rory and Lane stood and looked at each other, determined not to cry.

"Oh what the hell," Lane said, letting the tears come. She hugged her best friend.

Rory had had a hell of an emotional night, and she squeezed Lane with all the intensity and anxiety she was feeling.

"I'm gonna miss you," Lane cried into her shoulder.

"I'm gonna miss you too. We'll stay in touch, I promise," Rory said solemnly.

"I know. So not to sound like a cliché, but I guess this is goodbye."

Rory laughed and sniffed back her tears. "Well not to sound like a cliché but it's not goodbye, just a 'see you soon.'"

Lane nodded and Rory walked slowly off the porch. Lane went back inside to her family.

A crew Taylor had hired was cleaning up the party when Rory went to collect Logan and say goodbye to Luke and her mom. She approached Luke first. "Hey Luke, thanks for the party. I wish I could ask you to send me some coffee and a burger every now and then."

"Hey, you want it, you come home for it," Lorelai said, coming up beside Luke.

Luke put his arm around Lorelai and Rory observed the action with a smile.

"You know I will. Mom, Logan and I will come by the house early tomorrow, like five a.m. to say goodbye and get the last of my stuff. So I'll say…I'll just see you tomorrow," Rory said, unable to fathom that she'd have to say goodbye to her mother at some point.

"Okay. I'll…see you tomorrow," Lorelai responded, having similar thoughts.

Rory walked back to the gazebo, taking one last longing look at the town, all lit up for her. She couldn't bear the thought that those lights would soon be extinguished, almost as if she didn't exist there at all.

"Ready?" Logan said when he saw Rory approach.

"Yeah, I'm ready. I think…I think I've been ready for a long time, I just didn't know it."

Logan took Rory's hand as they walked back to their car. At Rory's request, Logan pulled away slowly. To Rory, this was the last of the town she would see with people milling about for a while. Tomorrow morning at five a.m., she'd be lucky to see a chicken. For Logan, he knew it was the first town event he'd truly been a part of, and there were plenty more to come.

Emotionally and physically exhausted, Rory and Logan collapsed on their bed which was really just a mattress on the floor in their bare bedroom. Tomorrow was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts? I love reading your reviews and getting feedback, so keep em coming.**


	16. Home, James, and Don't Spare the Horses

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

**A/N: Someone asked who Davey was in the previous chapter...that would be Sookie and Jackson's oldest child as per the show. As for the title of this chapter, as far as my research could tell, it doesn't come from any specific movie or book, and is just a common saying from the days of horse and buggies in England. However, if anyone has any interesting information on the origin of the phrase, then I'd love to know more about it. Happy reading!**

* * *

Outside of their apartment at four in the morning, Logan and Rory loaded the last cardboard box from their living room into the trunk, and with a solemn thud, closed it. Both admitted to not feeling so much sentiment about leaving the Hartford neighborhood, except that they had both experienced college in the surrounding area, and they had met there after all.

The darkness had mitigated only slightly when the silver BMW pulled up in front of the Crap Shack. Lorelai was waiting on the porch with Luke, the two ensconced in a blanket. Very few words were exchanged—partially due to the nature of the hour and partially due to the gravity of the circumstances.

Lorelai followed Rory into the house as Luke and Logan loaded a few more boxes into the car, carrying some of Rory's old memorabilia.

Rory wandered into her bedroom, her bright blue eyes awake, taking in the surroundings as if it were her first time viewing them. She ran her finger over every piece of worn furniture as her mother watched from the doorway, Lorelai's curls framing her face, brushing the doorjamb. Finally, Rory sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed and continued to survey the walls. She drank in every tear in the wallpaper, every chip of lacquered paint, every limp and weathered book that would remain behind on her bookshelves, waiting for her to come home.

It was hard for Lorelai to watch, as she knew her daughter really wasn't going far, but endearing just the same. She could see in Rory's eyes the love and adoration that she had for her home, the sheer appreciation she had for the house and the town and the safety that the combination brought her. Lorelai sat down next to Rory, sensing that she would need her mother close.

Rory turned to her promptly and gave her a hug, clenching her mother's shoulder as she tried to stifle the tears that inevitably soaked themselves into Lorelai's lilac zipper-up.

"You'll be home again soon," Lorelai soothed, knowing all too well how true that statement was.

"I know," Rory whispered as she pulled herself together. "Just not soon enough."

Lorelai just looked at her in earnest, rubbed her back and got up from the bed, encouraging Rory to do the same.

Mother and daughter exited the bedroom, their silence enhancing the hollowness of their footsteps across the wood floorboards. Rory took hold of her brass door handle and closed the door, hearing it click shut with a certain finality. Rory canvassed the rest of her house, walking slowly, elongating the moments before she left it for a while.

They went outside where Luke was just slamming the trunk shut and shaking Logan's hand. Rory came up next to him and stood by her husband.

Luke looked at her for a moment and then pulled her in for a hug. "Take care of yourself, will you? Eat some fruit every once in a while."

"Not a chance," she said.

Lorelai gave Logan a hug to keep up the charade and finally, Lorelai and Rory hugged.

"I'm gonna miss you," Rory said.

"We'll talk every day."

"But what if I need you?" she said, sounding like a five-year-old.

"You won't."

"But what if I do?"

"Then I'll be there. But I think I raised you right."

Rory pulled away and smiled at her. "Thank you," she said.

"Oh don't thank me yet. We'll see how you turn out in a few years. We might have a Edith and Edie Beale situation on our hands."

For once, Rory didn't have a witty response.

Logan got into the driver's seat and Rory slowly followed suit, taking her time to close the door and buckle her seat belt. Finally, Logan reversed the car and pulled out onto the street while Lorelai and Luke waved goodbye.

When the car disappeared from view, Lorelai turned to Luke. "How long do you think it will take before she finds out?"

"Two hours, tops," Luke responded. The two went back inside to relax before starting their day.

* * *

When Logan exited Stars Hollow, he couldn't help but notice how gloomy Rory looked. He saw her rest her head against the window, sunken and depressed. She looked exhausted, too, as if the emotional stress had taken an even worse toll than the physical.

"Why don't you close your eyes," Logan suggested. This was crucial to his plan. "I'll wake you up when we're close to the hotel."

Rory merely nodded and closed her eyes. She was more tired than she cared to admit, as she was out in a few minutes.

Logan smiled as he glanced at her every so often. She was more at rest when she wasn't awake, thinking about California. Soon, she would probably never think about it again.

Logan wandered through Connecticut, reaching the border and then coming back down through Hartford to make it seem like he was going a far enough distance. He called Lorelai when he was ten minutes out of Stars Hollow to tell her that in case Rory woke up, she had to make sure the town wasn't laying in wait for their arrival. He was sure by now everyone had found out the real plan. It had to appear like a normal Stars Hollow day, if such a day existed.

As luck would have it, Rory did not stir. Logan cruised through the town without a hitch and parked the car in their new driveway. He waited for five minutes, thinking maybe she'd recognize the lack of motion.

Finally, he brushed the hair out of her face and tried to wake her. "Ace," he soothed. She moved slightly. "Mhm…" she said. "Are we here?" She got up slowly and before the sleep cleared from her eyes asked, "What time is it?"

Logan didn't answer. He merely reached behind him into the back seat to retrieve a red bandana. He fastened it around Rory's eyes, to her protest. "Logan, what are you doing?"

"You'll see," he replied.

"No I won't. How can I see when my eyes are covered with some random piece of cloth? Are you kidnapping me? Is this like Bluebeard where we get married and then you turn into some psychopathic monster?"

"Yes, you've got me all figured out," Logan said as he went around the front of the car and opened Rory's door.

"Well is the hotel you got us so hideous and horrible that you don't want me to see where we'll be sleeping tonight?"

"You were closer before," Logan said with a laugh as he helped his wife out of the car and guided her by the shoulders across the lawn.

"Fine, I'm not doing anymore talking until you tell me what is going on."

"I find that hard to believe." Logan guided her up the three stone steps and reached in front of her to open the door. He pushed her gently across the threshold and closed the door behind him. Rory just stood there, honoring her promise. "Ready?" Logan said. No response. He laughed quietly to himself as he gently removed the bandana.

When the cloth fell away, Rory was staring at a partially empty house. She was standing in the foyer, the kitchen to her left, the living room straight ahead and the study to the right. She turned her gaze towards the front windows and instantly recognized the shape of her hometown in the midst of the view. Rory was in shock.

"The moving van will be here any minute," Logan said from behind her.

The breath was caught in Rory's throat. She couldn't believe Logan had done this. He gave up California for her. He gave up so much for _her_. And yet, she wasn't surprised. If he loved her as much as she loved him, then _this_ was no surprise. And she was pretty sure that was true. He might have loved her even more. She had a thousand questions, but she turned to look at Logan, and made like she was going to kiss him. She slapped him instead.

He was taken aback as he brought his hand to his face, but he smiled. "I guess I deserved that," he said shamelessly.

Rory smiled. "That was for making me give up the _New York Times_. This is for everything else." She gave him a kiss, and before they got lost in the moment, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and procured a laminated card. Rory broke away to see what else he had in store.

"Here you go, reporter girl," he said, reverting to the old nickname from the Yale Daily News. He handed Rory her press badge for the _New York Times_. She took it eagerly and clipped it on her shirt.

Then she looked up at Logan. "Maybe the slap was uncalled for."

"I won't hold it against you."

"Good," she said, giving him another quick peck on the lips. "What about Mitchum?" Rory asked, suddenly alarmed. Logan was waiting to see how long it would take her to get around to the big questions.

"He is staying in the house that we were supposed to be living in California. He took over the western branch of eHPG, and Colin is keeping an eye on him. He's actually taking it seriously and he's doing a really great job. I never expected to say that about my father, but I think he's trying. I bought a space in Preston, and they should be just about done finishing the set up. And as for you, Bill Keller gave you the job at the _New York Times_. And you get to see your mom, Luke, and the town every day."

"You know this means we have to go to Friday night dinners, right?"

"It also means we get to be here for my sister."

"You're still close to your mom."

"She's not the problem anymore. Why does it sound like you're trying to convince me to move to California again?"

"Just making sure your realize what you've gotten yourself into, because I am never, ever leaving this house."

"I'm not ready to pull a John and Yoko. But I am fully aware of the consequences," he said humorously. "I turned over every stone. The pros far outweigh the cons."

"Well then I guess I have to call Hugo and renege my position."

"Already taken care of."

"You know I love you, right?"

"I love you too. I love to see you happy."

"Well I'm definitely happy. Happier than the rollbacks smiley at Walmart."

"I hope so."

"I hope so, too," Lorelai said, coming through the front door with Luke.

"Mom!" Rory said, running to her mother and giving her a hug. "Guess what? We're _not_ moving to California!"

"I know. I helped Logan pick out the house."

Rory stopped. She looked at her mother and Luke and Logan and wondered. "You _knew_?"

"The whole time. And I've only just told Grandma and Grandpa and the town is starting to figure it out."

"But the crying and the party and—"

"Well to be fair, the town didn't know you were staying when they threw you the party. Just Lane and Zach. But I had to keep up the ruse or you'd get wise. You're very bright, you know."

"I get that a lot…" Rory said, laughing.

* * *

**A/N: Based on the reviews, it looked like a couple of people were skeptical about this plot point and whether it made sense for Logan to do all this behind Rory's back. I always felt that if anyone was going to pull off something this big, it would be someone like Logan, and, as you can see, it all worked out in terms of her job outlook. Also, I think it was important for Rory's character development to have to actually face the possibility of leaving her mom and town and friends, and we got to see her come to terms with all that. Even though she didn't need those reserves, as a person she learned that she's capable of letting go, and that her love for Logan is more important than anything else. So I hope that gives you some explanation as to why I took this where I did. I hope you enjoyed, and as always, I love to see what your thoughts are!**


	17. Start Me Up

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

**A/N: Hi everyone! So this is a bit of lengthly chapter with a lot of text, not too much dialogue. I love dialogue-I think it's far more interesting to write and to read, but each one of these vignettes, if you will, sets the stage for events to come, so it was a necessary chapter. And hence the title, which is from the Rolling Stones' song. Happy reading!**

* * *

By the time a week had passed, Rory and Logan were sufficiently settled into their routine. Rory had just started at the_ Times_ two days ago, and loved everything about it, except the long commute.

While working feverishly on some articles on Wednesday, she was called into her editor's office.

"Ms. Gilmore, how are you enjoying the work so far?"

Rory was sitting across from Hannah, the editor for international news. "I'm enjoying it very much. It's even more exciting and challenging than I thought it would be."

"Good, I'm glad you feel that way. Listen, I know you're just getting your sea legs in the real world of journalism, but your record is impressive and I have a job that I think you'd be perfect for."

"Oh?" Rory said, intrigued.

"The Swedes have been working on this new medical procedure for twenty years now, and they've recently had a breakthrough. They think they can use it to help combat cancer. In any case, Harvard Med is taking some of its freshmen for a two-week intensive in Sweden to see what they can learn, have them observe etcetera. Would you be interested in accompanying them and covering the story?"

Rory was in shock. Her third day on the job and she was already being given an extensive assignment. "Yes of course. I'd love to do it!"

"Great. They leave in a week and there are twenty students and two professors going. You'll be traveling with them, all expenses paid by the paper and covering it from a science standpoint. You'll also be focusing on the intensity of the research abroad program for Harvard. It's a three-year-old program, and academia is anxious to see what it's up to."

"Thank you so, so much. I won't disappoint you."

"I'm sure you won't, Ms. Gilmore."

Rory left her editor's office and checked her watch. She had about an hour before the bus left for Stars Hollow. She finished up the articles she was working on, dumped out a half empty cup of coffee that had gotten cold, and left the office to walk the one block to the bus stop.

* * *

"Doyle, why on earth would you consider giving this up?"

"Why don't you care about what I really want?" Doyle said, exasperated, almost whining. He was sitting on their bed in medium gray sweatpants, the elastics tightly bound to his ankles. He had on a hunter green pull over since he was on his way to the gym. Paris was zipping up her two meticulously packed suitcases. Rory was picking her up to go to the airport in ten minutes.

"Because you don't _know_ what you really want!" she yelled, pushing her brick red luggage against the entrance hallway wall.

"I'm twenty-four years old, Paris. And you're not my mother!" Doyle was getting defensive; his sensitive side was exposed—raw even.

"You were the editor of the Yale Daily News, the most prestigious collegiate newspaper in the country, nay, the world, and you want to become a…what did you call it? A connoisseur of life?!"

"The name is a work in progress. Hamilton suggested it," Doyle remarked, completely missing the point.

"Fine. If you want to give up your post at the _Boston Globe_, then when I get back from this trip, you better not be here."

"Paris, you'd give up everything we've worked for because of a job?"

The doorbell rang.

Paris was as flustered as she could be. She was generally unflappable, but fighting with Doyle always got to her. "I cannot sit by and watch my future husband give away a career he has worked hard for and has always wanted so that he can go work at some rinky-dink up-and-comer magazine and critique the world as he sees it!" she said, seething.

A tense silence ensued as Doyle assumed a shocked expression.

Paris's mouth parted slightly when she realized what had just transpired.

The doorbell rang again, a true representation of Rory's persistent skills as a reporter. It prompted a response from Doyle. "Wh—what did you just say?" he said quietly.

Paris brought her hand to her mouth. "I-I…I'll see you in two weeks." She opened the door quickly and slipped out, cutting off Rory's angry rant at Paris's unusual tardiness.

"What was that?" Rory asked as Paris hurried down the hall towards the elevator of her apartment building.

"It was nothing," she said quickly, her face pale. She hadn't really just admitted that she considered Doyle a candidate for her future husband, had she?

"Okayyy," Rory said, noting not to bring it up again as she could see that it bothered Paris. There were few things in life that could truly irk Paris, so those that did were not worth mentioning.

* * *

The two friends were sitting at the gate, waiting for their plane to board. Rory had called Paris as soon as she had gotten her Sweden assignment, sure that the newly admitted freshman would be going on the trip.

They arranged to have Rory fly to Boston where Paris and Doyle were now living and then join the crew there. There was a lot of excited medical chatter surrounding Rory and she was furiously copying snippets of conversation and milieu into her notebook.

The flight attendant at the gate made a call for the first boarding of the flight.

Paris, still silent, slowly gathered her belongings. She didn't want to start this trip with the negative energy surrounding her relationship. She had to give Doyle the ultimatum—it was the only way she ever got him to cooperate. But to admit her desire to spend the rest of her life with him and then let it affect her mood to this point…was this becoming another Asher Flemming obsession? No, it must have been what she really wanted or she wouldn't have let it slip in such a heated fashion. She mulled it over, letting it run through her mind, moving her mouth as if sucking on a stone that read 'Doyle…'

She loved him and all his oddities. He understood her, one of the few people that did. What wasn't to love? He had always made her feel safe and secure, given her argument instead of backing down when what she needed most was to debate. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. But he couldn't have taken her seriously. She saw his face—stricken, pale. The thought that marriage was in the cards had probably never entered his mind. He was the slow-going type, always waiting on her to make the next move in the relationship. He was probably content right where they were—living together, enjoying each other's company. He probably saw her abrupt exit as a relief, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of what was said if he could help it. Now he had a whole two weeks to make things go back to the way they were or flee in a panic.

As if to answer her unvoiced thoughts, a flurry of commotion rippled through the crowd.

"Move! Out of my way you plebeians!"

Rory and Paris looked towards the stir and saw Doyle push his way through the throng of people. "Paris! Paris Louise Geller, do not get on that plane!" He came to a breathless stop in front of her, sweat shining on his forehead.

"Doyle, what the hell are you doing?" she said through gritted teeth. She was turning red with the weight of the entire airport's eyes upon her.

Doyle dropped to his knees. "I love you. I love that you want what you think is best for me, and that you'd dump the only decent thing in your life besides Harvard to let me have it. But I also love that through the entirety of our relationship, you've only ever let your guard down in front of me. My grandmother, may she rest in peace, said to me on her deathbed, 'Doyle, if you ever find a woman who is far too good for you, marry her.' Recently, I've taken her advice to heart. I did everything but find out how you felt about the idea, because I was scared you wouldn't want to marry me. But I did everything, including buy you this." He reached into the pocket of his cargo jacket and procured a thin gold band with a two-karat diamond in the middle. It was most definitely from an antique shop, the kind of aged object Paris would appreciate.

Paris let the jacket she had slung over her arm fall to the floor. "Doyle, I swear to god if you are playing games with me—"

"Paris, no games. This is real. If nothing else, I'm sure that I want to marry you. So what do you say? My career and Harvard aside…make an honest man happy."

Without skipping a beat, and in true matter-of-fact Geller fashion, she simply said, "Yes."

"Yes? Yes? Yes! YES! She said YES!" Doyle said, allowing his nervosa to escape in laughter and then uncontrollable yelling.

"Doyle, you're making a scene. Put the damn ring on my finger. I have a plane to catch. Who do you think you are, keeping Harvard waiting?"

"Anything you say, my love," Doyle said with a goofy grin. He took the greatest care and pleasure in putting the ring on her finger. He got to his feet like a citizen standing from his knighting and then looked intensely at Paris for a moment. All of sudden, it seemed the two attacked each other in a ferocious kiss, and the instant it started, it stopped. One brief moment of passion was enough to mark the occasion, and Paris smiled widely. She suddenly didn't care that an entire airport was watching her weird, goofy, quirky boyfriend—_fiancé _propose. She was the happiest woman on Earth.

Wordlessly, Rory, Paris and the other participants boarded the plane. When the two were settled in their seats, they turned to each other simultaneously and wrapped each other in the warmest, most loving hug they could muster. Somewhere along the way, they went from enemies to friends to borderline sisters. Rory couldn't be more ecstatic for Paris. Paris couldn't be luckier to have a friend like Rory Gilmore-Huntzberger.

* * *

Logan sat in his darkened office, illuminated only by the sickly glow of his computer screen. His fingers moved at half their usual pace, deftly hitting the keys in protest of their prolonged use. Logan let out a stiff yawn, noting the brittleness of the muscles surrounding his mouth, and realizing that the rest of his body was just about numb. He checked his watch. 1:17 a.m. Had he really been working for nineteen hours, with only two, one-hour breaks? He supposed it was so.

Logan checked his e-mails and then his Facebook, finding nothing that needed his immediate attention. He turned off the computer and glanced at his phone. Two new messages. He opened it to find two texts from Rory.

_Miss you babe. I'll be home tomorrow_, sent at 8:00 p.m.

_ Get off your computer and go to sleep. I love you, _sent at 1:00 a.m. She knew him too well. Since he had just moved into the building in Preston, now the official headquarters of eHPG, he had been working around the clock, non-stop. He had a great staff of young, talented media and computer whizzes. He had state of the art technology and a lot of prestige surrounding his name, despite the recent financial troubles at HPG. The world of journalism expected a lot from him, but they knew to give him time. He'd produce something great. And that was more than Logan could ask for. If only he wasn't doubting himself.

It was a big job being the CEO of a new branch of a company. Not that he hadn't expected it. He guessed it was just hard because Rory had been away for the majority of the start-up. He realized that when she wasn't there when he came home, he just wasn't himself. The house was still in its half-baked stages, somewhere between brand new and home. He and Rory had only just started to make it theirs when she left, and it just felt empty and lonely to Logan. Once or twice in the fortnight he had accepted an invitation from Lorelai to crash at her house. At least there he had people to come home to. He couldn't wait until Rory got home. He truly missed her. He missed being close to her, being seen in public with her and being able to introduce her as his wife. He missed her smile when she lovingly looked at him and introduced an old friend from high school and said, "Oh so-and-so, this is my _husband_ Logan."

He smiled as he snapped his phone shut, having gazed at the messages too long. She had really changed him. And definitely for the better.

* * *

Mitchum wouldn't admit it to his son, but California had been a brilliant move. The first week he was there, he did nothing but reflect. He sat in the house that was meant to be for his son and daughter-in-law, and thought about why he was occupying it instead. He had screwed up. Big time.

He took some advice someone had given him thirty years ago. It was another one of his bigwig friends who was twice his age. "Relax," he had told Mitchum. "You'll regret it in the end if you don't." Did that man know how prescient he had been?

Mitchum had scoffed thirty years ago. Journalism could not possibly affect him that much. He would be his same old self, just a little busier. That had turned out to be an understatement and a comfortable lie. Mitchum never relaxed, not for the next thirty years, and he was sure making up for it now.

He sat on the beach, along the shore of a foreign state, one that he had seen nothing of but the inside of hotels and conference centers, smelled nothing of but newspaper ink. Now, he blended in with the crowd. He wore a tacky Hawaiian shirt, untucked, just because he could pretend to be a nerdy tourist for a day, and khaki shorts. He put on a pair of Oakley sunglasses and read magazines in a gawky white beach chair, just because he could. He got a tan, and after his first week of reflecting and tanning, he knew it was time to get down to business.

The hardest thing had been putting on a suit again. It meant he was going back to the world that had ruined him. At least he could admit it, if only to himself. He had to convince himself that this time, he would not let work overtake his life. He would be in control, and it would stop when _he_ wanted—not when he got a divorce, screwed with his taxes, or alienated his family.

The second thing he did was enroll in a local AA meeting. He had to do that. If not for himself, then for Logan. For Shira. For Honor. For his unborn grandchild.

That had been a nice surprise, but not a shock. Honor had called the morning after she had told Logan and Rory. Mitchum hadn't expected her to call. He honestly didn't know where they stood in the midst of everything that was going on. From the tone of her voice, it seemed that she had taken Shira's side, but he didn't want to think of it like some war. She had basically just said, "I thought you should know…" He had given her the proper congratulations, but the whole thing seemed compulsory, monotone—opposite of the mood the news should have elicited. Mitchum was determined to change that.

He arrived at the California location for eHPG. He went through the necessary motions of meetings, hiring employees, creating an image and the whole nine. His son's reputation and his survival, in a sense, were riding on the success of eHPG, and Mitchum couldn't afford to screw it up. The only things he had to battle were the rumors of his austere manner. The employees, while never having known him personally, had _heard _of him and his style of conducting business, and that was enough to scare them. However, the employees must have been confused because this Mitchum Huntzberger was not the one that others had worked for. He was almost an entirely different person, except that he still harbored the scars of the old one.

One morning, a visitor arrived at eHPG West headquarters. He said he was a representative from a local newspaper who potentially wanted to use eHPG's services. Mitchum looked out the window of his office, towards his secretary's desk where the supposed visitor was standing, waiting for an audience with Mitchum. Mitchum merely smiled, as he recognized the baby faced, short statured man immediately. It was Colin, one of his son's best friends and fellow troublemaker. So Logan had people watching him after all. He didn't doubt that the IRS was keeping tabs on him, but he was waiting to see how his son was going to pull off his own private detective service. He realized now Logan had an extensive network of close friends, not unlike Mitchum's powerful circle. When Colin finally left, without his meeting, it seemed he was pleased with the operation. Mitchum was satisfied that Logan would receive a good report. He wanted that much for his son. To be able to put his mind at ease in a small way was enough of a first step after all Mitchum had put his family through.

He didn't think he'd be in California for long. Too much of a good thing wasn't necessarily good, even if that thing was relentlessly sunny weather. But when he came back, he knew it would have to be in as quiet a way as possible, but with the most to offer. He would show those he had hurt that he knew he was at fault, and that he was capable of change. For a long time, nobody gave him much credit because he never stuck to his word. But this time would be different. It had to be.

* * *

Shira couldn't decide if she was lonely. She had people surrounding her no doubt—friends that were truly friends, however few in number. She was in the good graces of her son and daughter-in-law and Honor and Josh, both of whom were constantly looking to her for guidance on what to expect when you're expecting.

But the house was certainly empty. Although Mitchum had never been home much, his presence was always there. His things, his smell, the expectation that he would be home soon. But now there were only remnants of a life that was not meant to be maintained by one person. The society life, the society _world_ was designed around couples and pairs. Shira realized now that without clients to entertain and without a reputation to uphold as "the wife of Mitchum Huntzberger" she really found no enjoyment in it. Wasn't that what she had told Mitchum when he broke the news about HPG? Maybe then she had been lying, but now it didn't seem like such a bluff, just a comfort that she could admit to herself—she wasn't truly happy. Maybe she never had been.

The problem was fixing it. Moving out of Hartford would be an ordeal in and of itself, but where would she go? Logically someplace busy where she could find a new crowd and new endeavors to pursue. The Hamptons were out, the house on Martha's Vineyard was far too isolated, and the Huntzberger residences in London and China were definitely not options. There was the apartment in New York, however. Shira would have to ask Logan, but the more she thought about it, the more New York seemed like a good idea. It wasn't too far from her family, but it had the upbeat pulse of life that she was sorely lacking and desperately craved.

And then the big elephant in the room, the question she had avoided asking herself. The question that when it crept up in her mind in the depths of the night, made her to throw a pillow over her head and squeeze her eyes shut, as if either action could force the thought to exit and never return.

Could she survive on her own?

The house in Hartford was undoubtedly Mitchum's. She had maids and servants, and all the bills were automatically paid for. But in New York, she did not have the luxury of hired help and an invisible ATM. It would have to be just like when she was out of college for a year—on her own, paying her own way through a life that had not been so kind to her…that is until she met Mitchum.

Shira shook the memory from her head and focused instead on the big decision she had just made—the first one as a divorced, independent woman. She would move to New York. Not permanently—maybe just for a year. But if she liked it, then who knew what could happen? Shira herself didn't know what the future had in store, but she had to start taking steps in order to find out.

* * *

Finn kind of liked being back in Australia. He had moved to the U.S. when he was three, but had never quite gotten rid of the accent, and apparently, never gotten rid of his love for the place. He had to admit the climate was nice, he had a large network of family there, and not to mention the girls. Yes, if anything could make him stay in Aussie, it would be the girls—the Sheilas.

He could tell the extended business trip was more than for business—it was to convince Finn that living back home wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Which meant his father was planning on his son taking over the family business—the headquarters of which were located in Sydney. How else could his father explain the spontaneous activities he made his son do?

"Oh take the day off," his father would say. "You've been working too hard. Why don't you go catch some sun and do such and such." Well, his father's ruse had worked.

Of course, Finn would have to make a few more trips back to the U.S.A. to pack up his things and break the news to Colin and Logan. Finn was actually considering staying on a continent that seemed like it was a million miles away from his brothers. Had it just been for his father's business, the proposition might not have sounded so tempting. But Finn had met a girl and had fallen for her—hard. This was no one-month obsession that had really very little to do with the character of the woman and everything to do with the color of her hair and the sex. This girl was different—the Rory to his Logan. Yeah, she was _that _kind of girl. The one that was just plain different from all the others.

Her name was Rosaline and while she did have the trademark red hair that Finn was so fond of, she had personality. And a brain. And arguably a sharper wit and higher tolerance for alcohol than Finn. A match made in heaven.

Finn was out on one of his all-expenses-paid excursions provided by his father with a few friends from the office. They decided to try SCUBA diving, an activity that Finn had done once but was really too hung over to enjoy at the time. This time, he was completely sober, and glad for it. Their diving guide was a twenty-six year old female. Her skin was so evenly tanned and her accent thicker than any Australian Finn had ever met. She said she grew up around the coasts of Australia, mostly spending months at a time on her grandfather's boat. He taught her all there was to know about the water—fishing, sailing, hunting (not only for aquatic life but also for treasure) and her favorite activity, SCUBA diving.

All the time she spent with her grandfather, away from her abusive mother and absent father prevented her from completing her education in a timely manner. Three months prior, at the beginning of May, she had graduated from the University of Melbourne with a degree in aquatic biology. She was saving up the money she earned from being a dive instructor, because ultimately, she wanted to teach marine life protection courses at the local community college. Finn was in love. He was glad they had come in a group of three, because his two friends paired off and left Finn to be diving buddies with Rosaline.

A week later he called the dive shop and harassed the owner for Rosaline's number. He looked up her address and showed up at Rosaline's door instead of just calling her. When she opened the battered, rotting door to her apartment on the fifth floor of a shady building, she took one look at Finn, who was holding slightly wilted daffodils and was soaking wet from the rain, and laughed. Finn barely had to ask her out. She had read his mind.

Now, three months later, she was taking education courses at the community college while Finn worked for his father. They spent most nights together, and Rosaline had even introduced Finn to her grandfather, the man she respected most. In return, he invited her to accompany him back to the states. This wasn't going to be like when he brought back the milkmaid who barely spoke English, and then brought her to Rory's bachelorette party at her grandparent's house. Rosaline was coming with him to Thanksgiving dinner in Stars Hollow. This was serious, permanent. Finn felt like Rosaline was the missing piece in his life. His work ethic and quality had increased ten fold. Her determination to get an education and do meaningful work rubbed off on him, and his passion for adventure and life enhanced her own.

* * *

After seeing how Mitchum was running eHPG West's operations, Colin had given Logan a good report. Fantastic even. He was happy all was going well for Logan in business and with Rory. He was happy that Mitchum was buckling down, and that Logan was going to be an uncle. Finn had told him in an e-mail a few weeks ago that he was doing well in Aussie, working for his dad and that he had met a girl. Finn had expressed his regret for not being able to come home in August like he had planned, but promised that he'd be at The Dragonfly Inn with everyone for Thanksgiving, so Colin was happy for his best friend.

And Colin was mostly happy with his rookie status as a second-year law student working for his dad in California. He had taken over an environmental case, The McCrae's firm representing the plaintiff, a local park whose river was getting polluted by the waste from a soda factory. They came to a settlement, a very hefty settlement in favor of the park, and when that was wrapped up, Colin was going back to the Connecticut offices to intern and continue his law education. But he was missing Yale, and that was because Stephanie had been at Yale.

Stephanie was arguably responsible for Logan and Rory's meeting. She had been the blonde, elegantly dressed woman in the gorilla mask that had sparked Rory's reporting interest in the LDB, and led her to Logan. Her and Colin had a good thing going, right up until graduation. They spent the eve of their graduation together, in his apartment, drinking wine and making plans to continue their relationship, even when they were off in the real world. They had a plan, a long distance one, and it worked for the first month that Stephanie was in London, pursuing a Masters in education at Oxford. He had visited, they'd had a fight, but he hadn't given up. And then she stopped returning his calls, his e-mails, his texts. He broke down once and went to visit her apartment on a lark while on business in England, only to find the place deserted.

He could never shake the feeling that something bad had happened to her. How else could he comfort himself? There had to be a legitimate reason for her lack of continued correspondence. Despite his attempts, he let it go. He didn't want to go after her if she didn't want him. It was too hard on him. He had mostly been able to recover, reseal the chasm in his chest where his heart had been. But the only problem was, his heart was with Stephanie, so while the chamber may have been sealed, it was empty, and the vastness hurt the most.

Honor was friends with Stephanie's older sister, and he had enlisted her help. He found out through the grapevine that Stephanie was coming back to Connecticut for Thanksgiving dinner at her folks. Colin would be back home for the holiday, and he was clearing his schedule, because he was going to spend that week making every effort possible to find her, and find out what had happened between them. He had to. For his sanity, for his health, for the need to feel something again in that place in his heart that he had reserved for love.

* * *

"Lane!" Zach said, yelling as he came through the front door and slammed it shut behind him.

Lane came out of their bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Will you keep it down? The boys and Iwere taking a nap."

"I'm sorry," Zach said in a loud whisper. "I just have really good news."

Lane was suddenly awake. She was in front of Zach, the two standing in their living room. Lane sat down on the couch, as if what Zach had said had been an automatic trigger. He sat down next to her.

"Does this have to do with Hep Alien?" she said, trying not to get excited.

Zach nodded.

"Well where are Brian and Gil? Shouldn't they be here to hear it?"

"They were at the studio with me half an hour ago when we found out."

"Found out what?" Lane said, her heart starting to beat faster.

"Marc sent our demo to Modern Helium."

"Modern Helium? As in _the_ Modern Helium that first signed Twenty Miles to Nowhere?"

Zach nodded excitedly, a grin spreading on his face.

"And?!" she yelled. One of her sons gave a wail from the other room. Lane clapped her hand over her mouth, her scream having inadvertently woken him.

"They want us to come up and see them. They're located in Maine. They want a live audition, and Marc said there is a good chance we could be signing some papers to put out an album early next year!"

"Ahhhh!" Lane screamed, not caring if she woke up all of Stars Hollow, even though it was three in the afternoon. "Oh my god! Zach, this is amazing!"

"I know," he said, although it was muffled by Lane having thrown herself on top of him and giving him a giant hug that encompassed his neck.

"We're going to be real musicians! They're gonna want us to go on tour and we'll have to move every six months once the paparazzi finds us and—"

Both Steve and Kwan were awake, their shrieking voices rising in decibels.

Lane just sat there, frozen by the interruption.

Zach sprinted from the couch into the nursery. Five minutes later, he closed the door softly, having gotten one son to go back to sleep. The other was resting quietly on his shoulder. He brought Kwan over to the couch where Lane was still sitting and sat down.

"So you were saying something about paparazzi," Zach reminded her. Lane was silent.

"Zach, we can't."

"Can't what?" he said distractedly as he was adjusting Kwan's position so he could bounce him on his leg.

"We can't _do_ this. We can't put out an album. We can't go on tour or get chased around by paparazzi."

"Why not?"

"Look at us!" Lane exclaimed, gesturing around the room. "Who's gonna take care of Steve and Kwan? We're barely scraping by. We can't afford to take time away from our jobs so we can spend all our energy at a studio making a record. We're too old, we have too much responsibility."

Zach's head snapped up, his attention suddenly drawn away from his son and to his wife. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. We are _not_ too old. Gene Simmons is too old. Bob Dylan is too old. _We_ are not too old. You think just because we're parents that we can't be rock stars? U2 does it. Dave Matthews does it. We'll make it work. We're not giving up our dreams. We want to be parents _and_ hard core musicians, what's wrong with that?"

"The two images don't really mesh. Besides, what about our responsibilities? We have to put our kids first now. They're going to need normal childhoods, an education. How do we balance both?"

"I don't have all the answers, babe. The answers are just gonna have to come from life experience. It's like where all good music comes from. Experience. And besides, we didn't have normal childhoods, and we turned out okay. You had a psycho, god-loving mother, and I barely had a mother at all. It's going to be so different for our kids, so much better. There are kids growing up every day in the shadows of their parents' public success. We still have a long way to go before we reach any where near paparazzi-evading status. By then they'll be older. But for right now, we have to go out and grab the bull by the horns. It's like you always used to do when the band was feeling low, when we were starving and tired on the road, and you made us scrimp so we could buy recording equipment. That was so we could live our dreams. Don't give up now."

Lane was silenced to tears. When did her husband become so wise? She looked at him lovingly, watched him cradle Kwan in his arms, a towel over his left shoulder. He made everything in the world seem so easy, effortless. Nothing was too hard or too scary for him. Not when they found out they were having twins, not when their band was on the threshold of discovery. She leaned over her son and kissed Zach. She went into the nursery and carried Steve out, allowing him to rest similarly on her shoulder. The two of them sat there, holding as much of their future in their hands as they were about to create.

* * *

**A/N: As always, your thoughts and comments are much appreciated! This may be my last update for a little while. I am by NO MEANS abandoning this story, but the updates will be less frequent as I am going back to school this weekend and unfortunately that consumes most of my time. However, I try to continue writing on occasion and most definitely during school breaks, so if you can wait it out, stick with the story and please, please keep reading! Thanks!**


	18. Monsters: The Scariest Part of Halloween

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

Rory walked in the door of her house at two in the morning. It had been weird getting off the plane and asking the taxi driver to take her to Stars Hollow instead of Hartford. But she liked entering the town, especially in the twilight hours when everything was still, sailing past the town square, making a right and pulling into the driveway in front of her beautiful home that she shared with Logan.

She opened the front door softly and left her bags in the foyer. She climbed the stairs, avoiding the one that creaked. Her and Logan had a long list of things that still needed fixing. Not to mention redoing some of the rooms.

She entered their bedroom and slipped off her shoes. She pulled her dress over her head. They were coming into October, but the weather had still been warm enough for a sundress. She moved the sheets on her side of the bed, the left, careful not to stir Logan. He looked so cute when he was asleep. He was wearing boxers, but no shirt. His face was turned towards her side, as if waiting for her to come home. His right arm was curled under his pillow, with his left resting on it just in front of his nose. His gold Rolex was cold to the touch. He had forgotten to take it off.

Rory slid under the silky sheets, reveling in their coolness. She curled up next to Logan and whispered in his ear. "Hi."

"Mhm. Ace?" he mumbled into his pillow, his eyes still closed.

"I'm home."

"How was the trip?" he asked, still sleepy, his eyes barely slits in the darkness, his voice heavy.

"We can talk about it tomorrow. I love you," she said, wanting him to rest. She knew how tired he had been lately, and she was honestly glad to have found him asleep rather than in front of his laptop with his glasses on.

"I love you t…" he trailed off as he drifted back to sleep.

It didn't take Rory long to follow suit. The hotel bed hadn't been the most comfortable, but her trouble with getting to sleep for the past two weeks was more aptly attributed to the fact that Logan hadn't been there.

* * *

Rory came down the stairs in her pajamas that she had only just changed into. Logan was making breakfast in the kitchen, and when she sat down at the kitchen table, there was already a cup of coffee waiting for her at perfect drinking temperature. She took some sips and then dug into the pancakes Logan had just put in front of her. He let her take a few bites as he drank his own coffee and then started to ask her questions. "So, how was Sweden?"

Rory swallowed before answering. "It was really great. I mean, I didn't completely understand what the medical procedure was all about, but Paris helped me with that, and she seemed impressed. But then again anything related to Harvard impresses her. The freshmen team was pretty cool. They have a sister school in Sweden which is really just a state of the art laboratory for medical research, and the guy who discovered the possible cure oversees one or two projects with the students. Of course, that will probably change once this goes public."

"You mean once they publish your article," Logan said with a smirk.

"Basically," Rory said with a laugh.

"So, is there really hope for cancer patients with this?"

"You'd have to talk to Paris, but from talking to the professors, it looks like it."

"And Rory Gilmore got the scoop first, for _The New York Times_."

"That does have a nice ring to it."

"Ace, I'm so proud of you. I knew you were going to take the world by storm."

"It's pretty cool, isn't it? I'm an actual international reporter for _The New York Times_! But how's eHPG East doing?"

"The start-up is slow, but the local community papers of Greenvale and Woodbury signed on already. Oh and Taylor set up a lunch date with me at the Dragonfly next week to discuss possibly having us create a website and publicize _The Stars Hollow Gazette_." He could hardly keep from laughing.

"Wow, _The Stars Hollow Gazette_! Woosh, _The Washington Post_ better watch out, or _The Stars Hollow Gazette_ may take its place as the most widely read newspaper in Connecticut." Logan laughed. He had missed this early morning banter over coffee with Rory. In ten minutes, they had already covered each other's careers, medicine, and newspapers.

"Oh!" Rory exclaimed, her coffee sloshing over the sides of her mug and puddling on the table. "I can't believe I forgot to tell you! Paris got engaged!"

"What?! To whom? When?"

"What do you mean 'to whom?' Doyle. When I picked her up to go to the airport, they had been having some kind of argument about him quitting his job and she said she wouldn't let her future husband do that. They were both so stunned that is just came out like that that she left. We were sitting at the gate and he came running through the crowd and proposed to her right there in the airport."

"Wow. I did not see that one coming. The two newspaper Nazis getting married. Their kids are going to be so high strung."

"That'll be interesting."

"When's the wedding?" Logan asked, downing the rest of his coffee and stacking the dishes in the middle of the table.

"Oh you know Paris. She has a million reasons why it can't be during certain months on certain days so I don't think they've even thought about a date yet. But she asked both of us to be in the wedding party. You don't have to if you don't want to, but I'm her matron of honor."

"Of course I'll do it for the little guy. For Doyle, anything. I gave him enough trouble at The Yale Daily News, the least I could do is stand up there at his wedding for him."

"You'll really do it?"

"Why not? Besides, you'll be there."

"Okay, I'll call Paris later. But right now, it is Saturday and I want to spend the day with my husband who I missed very, very much."

"It's a done deal," Logan said with a smile as he watched Rory put the plates in the dishwasher. "Whatever you want to do, we'll do it."

"How about we go to Home Depot Expo and make some progress with this house?"

"Good idea. It felt really lonely and empty."

"Aww, were you a little loner for two weeks without me?"

"Well when I wasn't working like a dog—"

"It's been a hard day's night, and I've been working like a dog. It's been a hard day's night, I should be sleeping like a log. And when I—"

"Please, stop singing. You sound like a broken juke box." Logan said as he loaded in the silverware.

"You're no better," she retorted with a smile.

"I never said I was."

Rory went to slap his butt with the towel, but he grabbed it and pulled her into him for a kiss. She was home.

* * *

"Greta, where did you put the Toblerones?" Emily shouted from the living room.

A slightly robust woman with a voice to match called back, "They're in the urn by the front door."

"Honestly Greta, do you think you could manage to tell me in person, rather than have the information broadcast through the entire house?" Emily shook her head while Greta, in the safety of the kitchen, muttered "hypocrite" under her breath.

October had crept up on the Gilmore's rapidly. Amidst many social functions and business affairs, countless rounds of golf and luncheons, they were anxious to see when Luke was going to propose. They had begun to think that maybe he'd chickened out.

Still, their life never seemed to get dull. Richard had been following the affairs of HPG closely, the intimacies of which he was familiar with since Logan had employed his firm to handle the company's insurace. Josh had been doing the best he possibly could, given the circumstances. Unfortunately, he had the unsavory task of laying off many employees. But once he had chopped off the dead limbs, so to speak, and had gotten the staff down to a core group, they had actually started to regain some of their footing. Salaries were reduced, defunct papers dropped from ownership, but the legal troubles were almost at their end, with the extortionate sum slowly being paid off by Mitchum. Thankfully, eHPG had been started after the original mess, so it was not a tangible asset. It was actually helping to rid the company of its debt. That had pleased Richard immensely. Logan was really starting to go somewhere with his business. He had launched a revamped website for Greenvale, and they had already increased their readership by ten percent since the upload. The _Stars Hollow Gazette_ was in fact going to make its Internet debut next month, just before the Thanksgiving holiday.

Emily was not so interested in the financial success of her granddaughter and her husband. She called Rory once a week if for no other reason than to find out the progress of the decorating, and to pester her about forthcoming great-grandchildren. Logan and Rory had the Gilmores and Lorelai and Luke over two weeks ago as a sort of christening for the house that was not done, but certainly more complete than it had been. Emily, while more pleased with it than The Crap Shack, still had her share of comments and suggestions to contribute. She had surreptitiously left Rory a business card for the decorator who had done the Gilmore mansion years ago. Rory threw it in the trash. Her and Logan weren't touching anything that had to do with Hartford. They wanted their own style, not some stuffy men's club and ladies lounge décor. It was coming along fine and definitely to their taste. Rory thought she might have all the rooms outfitted with furniture by the end of November, just in time for Thanksgiving.

The only thing Rory and Logan did accept from Hartford was financial assistance with the decorating. The Huntzbergers had largely contributed to the wedding after the fact—both Shira and Mitchum had felt bad enough about their behavior during the process. This left the Gilmores in a position to offer a hefty house-warming gift. They initially wanted to simply buy Rory and Logan a house, naturally in Hartford, but they settled for paying for the decoration of the one in Stars Hollow, even if it wasn't necessarily up to Emily's standards.

Yes, October had been quite busy for the Gilmores. The month culminated with the Halloween holiday, one that Lorelai had loved as a child and that Emily and Richard had mildly tolerated. Emily went to the urn by the front door to find that Greta had been correct—the Toblerones were there and ready for consumption by the neighborhood children. Everyone on their Hartford block felt they needed to contribute in some small way. Most of them were at the age where they had small grandchildren or great grandchildren and they were chastised by their little ones for not setting out candy. Emily of course had neither young grandchildren nor any great grandchildren, a fact made painfully apparent by the nature of the evening.

Just as Emily was about to go and check on the orange and black lights that were supposed to be hung on the front of the house, Richard walked in, looking annoyed.

"Emily, have the kids come around yet?"

"No Richard. It's only five o'clock. They usually wait until it is completely dark. Apparently it's more 'fun' that way, although I honestly can't fathom what is so fun about prancing around a busy street in gaudy costumes and eating yourself into a stupor. Not to mention the cavities."

"Yes, well I hope they go out soon. I can't stand the thought of these hooligans roaming around my house all night. I'll have to send this suit to the cleaners. I got out of my car, only to be hit on the shoulder with an egg. I suppose the neighborhood boys think that throwing eggs at people on Halloween is a constructive and entertaining method of fun."

"Lydia, meet Mr. Gilmore upstairs in the master suite and help him off with his suit jacket. It must be cleaned immediately."

A short woman who was so light she made no noise as she crossed the living room in a hurry came up just behind Richard and followed him to the bedroom.

* * *

Halloween in Stars Hollow was of course a very different affair. Everyone wore costumes and decorated their homes into oblivion. Kids stayed out all night, and some houses carried endless supplies of candy for those two a.m. doorbell rings.

Even Logan got into the spirit of the holiday. Just like his birthdays hadn't been such a big deal growing up, neither was Halloween as it was considered a frivolous holiday. But the infectious spirit of Stars Hollow started to rub off on him, as Rory expected it would. The Fall Harvest Festival had been Logan's first real experience with town events, following the going away party and the Summer Firelight Festival. So for Halloween, he wanted to show his town of residence that he was actually becoming a true Stars Hollow citizen. He went all out on the house and on his costume. He was a traditional mummy, but a gory one at that. Rory dressed up as a witch, since she thought it was cute that Logan was going the traditional route. Not to say that Lorelai didn't endlessly chastise her for her lack of originality. But it was a fun night just the same.

Lorelai had convinced Luke to help the PTA at Stars Hollow High make the school into a giant haunted house for the little kids. He had grudgingly agreed. Lorelai noticed he was complying much more often, and with less protest than had been customary. She took it as an endearing sign of the growing intimacy of their relationship. He was trying to change for her, even just a little.

Rory and Logan took turns standing at the front door to hand out candy. When eleven o'clock rolled around, most of the kids had called it quits. Lorelai, Luke, Sookie and Jackson decided to all go out for a drink. Rory and Logan had been invited, but they both declined, citing exhaustion and the fact that they both had to go to work tomorrow.

In reality, they just wanted some quiet alone time together, since that had been a rare commodity as of late. Logan was keeping later hours, given the success of both eHPG East and West. Rory, having a connection, was given an expositional assignment on the current financial status of HPG. This of course had to include the company's plans for a remedy, so Rory wrote about the change of hands and the eHPG venture that was seriously alleviating debt. Once _The New York Times_ got wind of its success, and all of cyber world, the phones had started ringing off the hook.

Rory's nominal beginnings in journalism were taking off as well, first with the attention she received for the Sweden/Harvard piece and now HPG.

So the couple was looking forward to just being alone, maybe each taking a paintbrush to the spare bedroom upstairs. They were painting it a pumpkin orange, something light so finding furniture to match wouldn't be such a chore. It was after all only a second guest room.

However, Sookie and Jackson also needed alone time, which is why they were going out with Lorelai and Luke. The only problem was finding a baby sitter. Their usual one was trick or treating with her sister, and Lane and Zach were already fast asleep, having taken Steve and Kwan out for their first Halloween.

Before they left for Uncle Joe's bar, Sookie had timidly asked Rory if they'd be willing to watch Davey and Martha.

"Please," Sookie had pleaded, her hands together in almost a prayer like fashion. "It'll just be for two hours or so." Standing at the front door, Rory took one look back at Logan who was slowly undoing his costume. He paused mid unwrapping, a white strand of gauze dangling from his fingers. His eyes conveyed fear at the prospect of being in charge of two rambunctious kids for two hours, but his mouth betrayed him.

"Sure. We'd love to."

Rory had been shocked at his response, but also pleased. She wouldn't have minded watching them, but she knew they wanted to be alone. But what was two more hours?

She turned back to Sookie. "It's not a problem. We've got them. Go have fun."

"Thank you!" she shouted, throwing a diaper bag and another canvas bag full of toys through the front door and darting down the steps to Jackson who was waiting with the motor running.

Rory stood staring at the bags that had just landed at her feet. Davey was staring up at her, and Martha was sitting on the floor, staring at Rory in a similar fashion. Slowly, Rory picked up the toys and moved them to the rug in the living room. She picked Davey up and set him down in front of the pile of toys. She put the diaper bag on the couch and swooped up Martha, placing her on her lap as she came to a sitting position on one of the plump couch cushions.

"So Davey, what do you want to play?" Rory asked him while she bounced Martha on her leg. She reached down to the toy pile and picked up a plush rainbow-striped flower that she handed to Martha, who proceeded to chew on one of the felt petals.

"I want to play Space Race!" Davey responded with enthusiasm.

"Space Race? What's that? How do you play?"

"First, you have to line up all the aliens and then get out the asternuts and…" While Davey went into a detailed explanation of his game, taking out each toy as he referred to it, Logan snuck upstairs to finish unwrapping himself and get into clothes.

When he came back down, Martha was sitting on the couch by herself, still innocently sucking on the flower. The pile of toys was abandoned, and Rory was chasing Davey around the living room.

"Davey! That is not a toy!"

"But the asternuts need to use it to call the space rangers for help!" Davey cried out, his high-pitched voice labored with his heavy breathing as he continued to run three inches ahead of Rory.

"What's going on here?" Logan shouted over the noise.

Rory shot him a look while saying, "He found my cell phone on the coffee table and started calling everyone on my speed dial. He was trying to use it for his game!" Rory too was out of breath. What could she expect for never having exercised?

Logan watched the two run in a circle for thirty seconds more until he had Davey's path all figured out. Just as Davey came around the coffee table, Logan leaped out in front of him, letting him crash into his stomach. He braced Davey's back so he wouldn't fall and plucked the phone out of his tiny hands. Davey looked up at Logan sheepishly.

"Davey," Logan said calmly. He crouched down so he was eye level with him. "Did Rory ask you not to play with her phone?" Davey looked at his feet and nodded "yes" after a few seconds. "Okay, you have to listen to her, bud. I know you were having fun, but if you don't listen, you could get hurt."

Davey was silent.

Logan lifted his chin so he could look him in the eyes. "Do you want me to play Space Race with you?"

Davey smiled and nodded excitedly.

"Okay. Go start the game and I'll be right back." Logan went to the hall closet, felt around on the top shelf for a box of some of his old stuff that had gotten carted around from his childhood home to college to his apartment and back to this house. He returned to Davey and sat on the floor, carrying a broken walkie talkie that he figured would make a good substitute for the cell phone.

Rory looked at Logan playing with Davey. She had to admit she was jealous. She couldn't even control him for ten minutes, and Logan managed to effectively reprimand him and then play with him in two. Rory looked over at Martha, still happily playing with her toy, completely unfazed by the noise and commotion. With a sigh and a sense of self-disappointment, she went back over to the couch and played with Martha.

Half an hour later, Davey started to get tired of Space Race, so Logan found five Hot Wheels cars in the toy bag and handed them to Davey. He and Logan set up an obstacle course in the living room and proceeded to push the cars through it. Rory was still sitting on the couch with Martha next to her. Rory was reading a book while Martha brushed her doll's hair with a tiny plastic brush.

Logan looked over at her for a moment. "You okay?" he mouthed to her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Keep playing," she whispered back. She wasn't lying. She was happy if Martha was happy. But she still felt bad that she had essentially saddled Logan with Davey for the night by not being able to establish control.

* * *

It was twelve o'clock midnight and Sookie and Jackson weren't due back for another half an hour. The kids had only stayed up so long because they were hopped up on sugar, but Logan had noticed that Davey's energy level had been waning. Rory looked over at Martha and found her doll across her chest, her head resting on a throw pillow. Gingerly, Rory closed her book and picked Martha up. She was so light that Rory was afraid she might break. Rory brought her into the guest bedroom on the first floor and laid her on the bed. She removed her Keds and put her underneath the comforter, laying the doll next to her. Rory kissed her head, decided to leave the bedside lamp on and the door slightly ajar, just in case, and quietly left the room.

When she came back into the living room, she went over to Logan and Davey and sat pretzel style on the floor next to the heap of Legos they had started to play with. Davey had been wheeling one of his cars back and forth in front of him while Logan watched and had just closed his eyes, his head coming to rest against Logan's arm. Logan recoiled slightly, but not enough to stir Davey. He looked down at the brown tuft of hair moving slowly to the rhythm of Davey's breathing and looked helplessly at Rory.

Rory smiled. Logan may have been able to keep a little boy entertained, but when it came to the lovey dovey stuff—putting them to bed and holding them—he was totally clueless. And it didn't help that when he was a kid, he was always put to bed by a nanny who hadn't cared very much.

Rory went around to Logan's left side where Davey had finally run out of energy and scooped him up like she had done with Martha. A few Legos fell to the floor as she lifted him, so she pointed her chin at them, signaling Logan to pick them up and follow her. He didn't move for a second, but when she walked away, he got her drift and scrambled to collect the toys, stuff them in the bag, and follow Rory.

When he went to the guest room, Rory had just gotten Davey under the covers and was laying his shoes at the foot of the bed. She turned off the lamp as Logan watched from the doorway, his head starting to droop against the doorjamb. Rory moved to Martha's side of the bed and turned off her lamp as well. Logan watched her come toward the door again.

"Can we go upstairs now?" he whispered to her.

"You can," she said with a yawn. "I'll be up in a bit."

"You're not coming to bed?"

"No, I'm gonna sit here until Sookie comes. You can go to sleep and I'll meet you in the bedroom."

Logan hesitated for a moment. "Do you want me to sit with you?" he asked, wanting to sleep but not wanting to shirk his babysitting duties.

"It's fine," Rory said with another yawn.

"Okay," Logan whispered. He turned to go, but in a fleeting moment, he re-entered the bedroom, went over to Davey and tousled his hair. He let his hand hover above Davey's head after that, not sure why he had just done that or how he felt about it. When he closed the door, Rory smiled. She couldn't help feeling happy when she saw Logan with little kids. He had natural instincts.

Ten minutes later, Sookie came through the front door, not bothering to ring the bell and wake everyone up. Rory met her at the threshold.

"Hey. How was your night?" Rory whispered.

"It was fun. Much needed. Were they good?"

Rory nodded emphatically. "We just put them to sleep—the sugar wore off quickly."

"I'll bet," Sookie said, moving into the house and following Rory to the guest bedroom. Sookie stopped at the doorway and took in the scene of her sleeping children for a moment. She hoisted Martha into her arms, miraculously without waking her, and gently woke Davey. Rory put the diaper and canvas bags on Sookie's shoulder. Davey sleepily followed his mother to the door.

"Thanks so much," Sookie said, turning to Rory before she left.

"It was no problem. Logan and I will be happy to help any time."

"Where is Logan? They didn't scare him away, did they?"

"No, no. He was actually great with Davey. He's just been tired lately so he went to bed when they fell asleep."

"Okay, I'll thank him tomorrow."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Night," Sookie called over her shoulder.

Rory closed the door, shut all the lights on the bottom floor, and went upstairs to Logan.

Rory thought he'd be asleep, but Logan was sitting in bed doing a crossword puzzle. When Rory walked in, he put it down and waited for her to get into bed. When she finally sank against the pillows, she let out a long sigh. "Sookie says 'thank you,' by the way."

"I'll catch up with her tomorrow at The Dragonfly."

Rory merely nodded in recognition, too tired to talk.

They sat in silence for a bit, reveling in the quiet, before anyone spoke again. "Sorry we didn't get our alone time," Rory said, turning to face Logan.

"It's okay. We'll have it another time."

The silence ensued, both not really sure how to comprehend the last two hours. If they were tired before, this was tired on a whole new level.

"So that was—" Rory started.

"Yeah. That was…lets not talk about it. Right now, I want that _alone_ time you promised me." Logan sank down under the covers and slipped his arm under Rory's back.

"Oh do you?" she said, her eyes narrowing as she followed Logan's decline. He nodded playfully and she succumbed to his cute little smirk, allowing him to take control of her tired body as they embraced.

* * *

**A/N: I hoped you enjoyed! Please review, I love feedback and hearing what you have to say!**


	19. The Preparation Rituals

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

"TJ! I've been cookin' for three days! Do you think you could take care of Doula for half an hour so I can get some shut eye!?" Liz was lying down in her bedroom and had only just closed her eyes ten minutes ago before Doula started crying and carrying on hysterically.

"Yeah! Just give me a minute!" TJ yelled from the living room. He was sitting in a beaten-to-death brown armchair, his feet sprawled out in front of him, a Coors Light in his right hand and his eyes glued to the football game on the television. His team was about to make a play for a touchdown to win the game. His eyes widened as they approached the end zone, the game glinting off his glassy-eyed stare. His body moved forward, anticipating the moment the play was made. His right hand, beer and all, had been steadily rising off the arm of the chair. "Touchdown!" he yelled, sloshing beer all over the place. "Yeah." He said to no one. The room was empty.

"TJ!" Liz yelled for a final time.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'. Geez." He flicked off the television, straightened his chair, threw his beer can in the garbage and went to the nursery to rock Doula back to sleep.

For five blissful minutes, the house was quiet. Doula was quietly cooing in TJ's arms. He really wasn't a bad father. He loved having a daughter. He thought it balanced out the "manliness" in his life, whatever that meant. Liz had gotten lucky this time around.

Tonight was Thanksgiving, and although the family of three had been invited to The Dragonfly by Luke and Lorelai, they insisted that they didn't want to intrude, that Doula might make a scene, and that they were just going to have a quiet family dinner of turkey and football.

Liz continued the nap she had wanted to take for the past forty-eight hours, sighing as she thought of the fact that her husband was taking good care of their daughter, and that the house was finally at peace.

And then the doorbell rang. It shot through the quiet house like a bolt of lightning. Doula started crying again and Liz slammed her fist down on the mattress in frustration. "God damn—"

"I got it, I got it!" TJ yelled, putting Doula over his shoulder and rubbing her back with his left hand as he traversed the house to get to the door. "Who the heck would be knocking at the door now, just before Thanksgi—Jess." TJ had opened the door fully, letting a gust of wind into the house, which shuffled some papers by the front door. It had the frosty nip of a breeze laden with latent snow.

"TJ," Jess replied with a cool, mildly acknowledging tone. He had a duffel bag held high over his head with his right hand, and his left was full of gift-wrapped boxes. As always, he was in jeans and a leather jacket. He moved into the house as TJ stepped aside, unsure of what to do. He watched as his stepson put his bag down and then the presents, placing those on the couch. He looked around the small home, his facial composure remaining non-indicative of his opinion. "Looks cozy," he finally said. "A lot more done up since the last time I saw it."

"Yeah um…we did a lot of work on it. Hey Jess, I hope you don't mind me being frank and all but…what are you doing here?"

Jess stopped walking around the living room, surveying the surroundings. Liz came out of the bedroom. She was pulling on a sweater.

"What is all the racket going on out here?" She looked up from tying the drawstrings on her pants. "Jess! You came! I didn't think you would come! Oh it's so good to see you! What's with the luggage…and the presents! You brought presents and—" She had pulled him into a hug, and found that he stood a full head taller than her.

"Mom, Mom slow down. I just haven't seen you guys in a while—not since Doula was born."

She stopped. Liz wasn't one to question the occasion when her son came home, but something didn't seem right.

Jess looked around, resting his wandering gaze on the bundle in TJ's arms. "Speaking of which, how is my little stepsister?" Jess walked over to TJ and put his arms out, asking if he could hold Doula. TJ transferred his load and Jess held her in his arms for a few minutes, before he sensed that he was becoming too in touch with his feminine side and handed the baby back to TJ.

The three stood around awkwardly after that. TJ moved first. "Okay, I'm gonna go put Doula down in her crib." He walked into her nursery and closed the door. Jess and Liz stared at each other.

"So," Liz said with a shrug of her shoulders. "You're here."

"I'm here," Jess said matter-of-factly, more like his mother in his mannerisms than he cared to admit.

"Well I'm not one to complain. I'm just happy you came."

Without really acknowledging the statement, Jess said, "Do you want to take a walk?"

"I'd love to. Let me get my coat."

Jess nodded and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans while he waited. She returned a minute later, prepared to brave the light snow that had begun to fall. Jess observed her reentrance into the room in silence. He held the door open for his mother and waited for her to step onto the front stoop before he followed after.

The door closed with a tight slam, the noise muted by the air that was quiet, yet seemed to be alive with some imminent force. White dust already coated lawns and the street, so their footprints dissolved the thin powder, leaving cookie cutter marks in their wake.

* * *

They walked in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, possibly slightly weirded out by the fact they were simultaneously partaking in a mutual activity that did not include fighting or yelling.

"Jess,"

"Mom," they said in unison. "You first," Jess said, ever the gentleman.

Liz was quiet a moment before continuing. "Are you…are you okay?"

Jess smiled at the implications of that question. "Define 'okay.'"

"Why are you here?"

Jess nodded, tension rippling through his temple. "Why does that always have to be the first question on people's minds?"

"The way you left this town, you wouldn't exactly be welcome back with open arms. Maybe very tightly crossed arms, because every time you do come back here, it's always 'cause you're in trouble. Like I said, I'm glad you're home. I just don't want it to be permanent. I don't want you to keep running from everything."

Jess couldn't help but smile. "Look at you, dispensing advice like you're Ask Abby."

Liz smiled too. "I'm…I'm finally happy Jess. I have a good life here with TJ and Doula and Luke. It took me a while to find that, and I don't want you to be my age before you do."

The patented austere, emotionless Jess Mariano expression returned to his face. "I'm okay."

"But you're here." Like mother, like son.

"So to clarify, I can't just come home to see my mother and uncle and stepsister?"

"Other people can. You, I wouldn't believe it for a second."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You haven't earned any votes of confidence."

"That's fair." Silence again.

Liz chose not to speak until Jess did. She knew his intentions would be revealed sooner or later. At this point in their stroll, they had reached the town square and Jess was standing at third base to Luke's diner on home plate. He stopped dead in his tracks. A few dozen people were milling about the town square. Some were popping in and out of Luke's, bringing with them a warm tuft of air and the smell of cherry pie. They'd wrap their necks in their scarves and tighten their coats when they emerged onto the street, and other patrons would take their place on the stoop, stomping their boots before entering the diner. Jess watched the scene for a minute, but it felt like everything was moving in slow motion, as if he'd been standing there for an eternity. Why did it feel like he was home?

Jess had a good life in Philly. It wasn't much to some people, but he had never lived by anyone else's conventional standards. His life was entirely his own—that much he could own up to. He had bought Truncheon Books almost a year ago now, and he gained the greatest satisfaction from discovering the next talent to hit the B-List bestsellers list. He specialized in finding small-town indie talent; people who couldn't even get the attention of the postman to send their manuscripts to big-time publishers. And Jess was comfortably living off the royalties of his own book, however small. He had a tight group of work friends and personal friends, many of whom knew very little of his slightly troubled past, but never asked and didn't care. They knew a different Jess, and they knew they knew a different Jess, but they didn't ask questions and they were satisfied without the answers. Jess had found comfort in this fact—these were people like himself, not like the gossips in Stars Hollow or the hard asses in New York or worst of all his overprotective, godforsaken, caring, loving family. How awful did it sound that he hated that? And yet he was with a group of people who were exactly like him in that sense—trying to escape from the people in their lives who expected too much of them. Because somehow, they never lived up to expectation, and disappointing their loved ones was a worse sin than disappointing themselves.

As if on cue, having run through Jess' head with a smattering of other people he cared about, Lorelai and Rory entered the diner, obviously without seeing Liz or they would have waved. They'd been seeing a lot more of each other since her and Luke had gotten back together. Logan followed the girls in a minute later. Jess' eyes stayed fixed on the door.

"Oh Jess…" Liz said when she followed his gaze.

"What?" he said tersely.

"She's marr—"

"I know! I…I saw her in New York. During her honeymoon with that jerk of a boy—husband Logan. They were all too happy to inform me of the situation."

"So she's not why you came back?"

"Geez, Mom! I told you! I came back because I wanted to see you! Because I own the place that helped publish my book now! Because my second book is in the process of publication! Because I made a life for myself despite everything and I thought you'd want to know I was okay! And I owe a lot of that to this fucking town, and Uncle Luke and even you and TJ and I wanted to come back here. It's…it's god damn Thanksgiving, the one holiday that fucking revolves around family. I just wanted to be home." Jess was seething and his breath rose in angry puffs from his mouth, the steam wafting high into the arid air and disappearing into the hungry wind.

"All right, take it easy. Forgive your mother for trying to figure out your puzzle of a personality. I'm glad you're home Jess, I toldja that. And I'm glad this town means so much to you."

"Whatever," Jess said, reverting to his defensive sulkiness.

"Not 'whatever.' All that stuff…owning the bookshop and putting out your second book…I bet you didn't know this, but Andrew said your book was his top seller for a month here. Like it or not, you made an impression on this town, too. How you left may not have been honorable, and the way you and Rory ended, also not so honorable. But they never forget a person that they took under their wing and they were so impressed by your book. It helped I guess that some of the characters were loosely based on these loonies."

Jess turned toward Andrew's bookstore. It had been a place of refuge. Andrew didn't talk much, and all he asked out of Jess for his prolonged stakeouts on the floor of the shop was help with the inventory. And his book could very well have been in the hands of another rebel like himself, sitting in the same corner that Jess had occupied so frequently.

"Can we go back to your place? I've had enough fresh air," he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah, sure. Let's go."

The walk home was filled with silence, but not tense, angry, empty noise. There was between the two a sort of unspoken code that essentially eliminated any conflict. They'd been through too much as a family to let the little things come between them. They weren't miffed at each other, merely respecting the other's right to silence in order to internalize some personal thoughts.

Jess ascended the front step first to open the door for his mother. No harm, no foul. His arm extended inward, pressed against the door and Liz followed it. TJ was waiting nervously on the couch, caressing Doula's back like a superstitious individual would incessantly rub a rabbit's foot. The first thing Liz noticed was a foul stench in the air—it seemed to hang like solid matter, making her eyes sting and her chest choke on the substance as she inhaled.

TJ stood up, holding Doula out in front of him like a human shield. "Don't panic. I have everything under control," he said.

"TJ," Liz said as evenly as possible. "What happened?"

"Well first of all, I didn't even know you and Jess left the house. But that's besides the point. Doula and I were lyin' down for a little cat nap of our own and I musta forgot about the bird in the cooker and all and well…"

"Well…" Liz continued, hoping the ending of that sentence was not what she expected it to be.

"It mighta burned a little."

"A little."

"Okay a lot. It's as black as tar. You couldn't pay me to eat it."

Liz ran to the kitchen. Sitting on the counter in a large pan was the turkey she had been trying to cook for hours. "Not again!" she exclaimed. "I can't seem to do anything right!" In anger, she ripped open the fridge and threw Tupperware containers full of the other trappings of a Thanksgiving meal into the garbage can. "So much for those mashed sweet potatoes!" she said. "Sayonara stuffing!" She continued on, eulogizing each food in a short, generally alliterative manner. TJ and Jess glanced uneasily at one another, still standing in the living room, the gray smoke stinging their eyes as it filtered out the open window.

"I'll go call Luke," TJ finally said. "I hope they have room for three more and a baby at The Dragonfly.

* * *

"Yeah, we'll be on the road in an hour. We'll be home before twelve Michel, plenty of time to get dinner in order." Lorelai rolled her eyes as she patiently listened to a five-minute whiny rant from Michel about all of the _hard_ work he was doing to prepare for _Lorelai's_ Thanksgiving dinner in her absence.

When Michel was finished, Lorelai snapped her cell phone shut and put it in her pocket. She turned back to look at Luke, sleeping with his shirt off, curled in his sleeping bag, just visible at the opening of the tent they had been staying in for the past three days. Lorelai didn't want to wake Luke. He was so in his element. She sat in a hunter green canvas folding chair, hugging her sweater around her, staring at the glowing flames of the fire Luke must have started an hour ago when he woke up to go to the bathroom, just because he knew Lorelai would be up soon and wouldn't have a clue how to restart the fire from the still-hot embers.

She sighed at the thought and reflected on the weekend. Luke wanted some time off from the diner before the Thanksgiving rush, what with everyone's families coming in to town and undoubtedly visiting the diner. Lorelai was in the same boat in terms of needing time to relax. She just wanted some alone time with Luke, and in some delusional Twilight Zone-esque state of mind, she suggested they go camping. Luke loved to do it, and according to him, you couldn't beat the kind of peace and quiet afforded by the wilderness and the fact that there most likely wasn't another human being within the immediate ten-mile radius of your chosen global position.

Of course Luke readily agreed, checking a thousand times over if Lorelai was "110 percent sure" she wanted to go. She assured him that she was and here they were. Surprisingly, it hadn't been the dirty, buggy, sweaty mess of a trip that she had often equated with the word "camping." They took Lorelai's Jeep and drove the hour to the campsite. They parked it at the base of the mountain, on top of which was some flat high ground where Luke liked to set up camp. Grudgingly clad in Timberlands, jeans and a long sleeve shirt and sweater, Lorelai set out on the one-mile hike to the top, Luke in the lead. It was November, and although it was cold, there had yet to be snow. However the mosquitoes had already high tailed it back to someplace warm.

When they got to the top, Luke stretched out his arms over the picture perfect view and exclaimed, "This is paradise." Lorelai plopped down on the ground, panting and sore. She fell asleep on top of her sleeping bag and awoke to a fully set up campsite, a star-filled sky and glowing fire that Luke was tending. That part was a major turn on. The weekend in the woods had been romantic and just what they needed—to just be with each other without the world intervening.

"Hey."

Lorelai snapped her head up from where her gaze was trained on the flames. Luke was resting on his elbow, his head elevated just enough so she could see half his chest and tuft of unkempt hair on his head.

"Hey caveman."

"Caveman?" Luke questioned, flexing his feet inside his sleeping bag, the nylon fabric stretching and shining with the motion. "That's harsh."

"You've given me the gift of fire on this bright, cheery, freezing cold morning. Therefore, you are caveman."

"I'll accept that," he said, getting off the floor, stretching his back and pulling on his jeans and plaid shirt. He swiped his baseball cap from somewhere inside the tent and in one swift motion, placed it on his head backwards.

Lorelai stood up to warm her hands over the fire.

"But I don't think we'll be going camping again anytime soon."

"Why?" Lorelai said in mock alarm.

Luke came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms. "Tell me with a straight face that you enjoyed today. Or any of the days."

Lorelai suppressed a smile, shame creeping onto her face in the most humorous way possible. "I liked the non-physical stuff. And some other things," she said with a dirty smile playing on her lips.

"I would consider those pretty physical."

"Then the non-physical stuff outside of the tent. Sitting in the grass with a picnic was fun."

"That's because after the half a mile walk, I gave you a hot thermos of coffee."

"See? You're exactly what I needed," she commented, melting into him.

"Well for what it's worth, this weekend was what I needed too. Having you here was only an added bonus."

Lorelai smiled. Luke never showed his vulnerable side. Ironically, what he used to do to stay in touch with his manly side, he now used as an unexposed environment to express his feelings. Even the mushy ones.

"We should get going. I have to open the diner for the lunch rush. And I hear there is snow on the way."

Lorelai gave him a patented pout. "Do we have to? Michel is back there…where there's people and he's just going to complain and complain and complain and—"

"Rory and Logan are coming. They're back from their trip and I told them to meet us at the diner for lunch."

"Let's go nature boy."

Luke smiled. The two packed up their stuff and started down the mountain. Within an hour they were in the Jeep and on the way back to Stars Hollow for Thanksgiving dinner at The Dragonfly, where everyone would be in attendance.

* * *

"Geez, Ace you got enough stuff in there?" Logan glanced over at Rory sitting in the passenger seat, still furiously writing in her notebook making notes for an article.

"I think it's just enough to suffice," Rory commented, not taking her eyes off the page. She was totally serious too, even though the one-subject spiral was stuffed to capacity with miscellaneous sheets of paper and completely spent of its one hundred pages.

"Well I think you should put the pen down and take it easy. It's Thanksgiving."

"I can't take it easy. What do you think we were doing for the past week?"

"Well _I_ accompanied my wife to Martha's Vineyard because she had an article to do and I thought we'd make a romantic vacation out of it. But _she_ worked her butt off running around in the frigid air, talking to every inhabitant she came across and got a cold because of it."

Rory glanced at him. "I did more than just _talk_ to people. We sampled local food and fare. And we did a few other things," she said with a smile. Logan smiled too and returned his attention to the road in front of him. He had been nervously eyeing the sky for quite a while, noticing the clouds rolling in that were practically begging to unload their burdens of snow. They'd yet to accomplish their mission. "And I did not get a…a…a…choo. Cold."

"Oh really," Logan said, not having to say any more as Rory's sneeze just confirmed what she was vehemently trying to deny. "Straight to bed for you before lunch. You need some rest. And I'll take that," Logan said, triumphantly plucking the notebook and pen from her hand and tossing them in the back seat.

They came cruising into Stars Hollow ten minutes later. The town was fairy-tale like in the movement of people, slowly going about their day-to-day activities wrapped in layers of winter clothing. Logan slowed his speed to the mandatory fifteen miles per hour and deftly moved the wheel with his left hand, turning it slowly onto their block. He parked in their driveway, popped the trunk and swung the two duffel bags over his shoulder. Rory followed him into the house. She hit the blinking light on their answering machine. One message was from her boss, telling her she hoped she was having a good Thanksgiving holiday and that she wanted Rory's article on the winter happenings at Martha's Vineyard e-mailed to her by the end of the week. Logan had a message from Julius, his go-to tech guy, saying one of the servers was down, but he fixed it within half an hour meaning the payment reduction for the newspapers on that server would be minimal. The last was from Luke, left last night that he and Lorelai would be back from their camping trip by noon and to meet them at the diner. Rory checked her watch. Eleven o'clock. Plenty of time for a nap.

Rory went to lie down as Logan unpacked the duffels. While Rory rested, he did a little of his own work on his laptop and watched some TV, preferring to just let her rest and not snuggle up next to her and risk catching her cold.

Rory woke up abruptly at 11:45, sweat coating her skin and a watery flood of saliva teeming on the back of her tongue. She bolted from her bed and into the bathroom, releasing the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She sat on the tiled floor, resting her head on the rim of the toilet. The porcelain felt cool to her skin, a welcome relief. Logan came running in a minute later. He knelt down next to Rory.

"Ace, that's like the fifth time you've done that in the past two days."

She looked up at him with droopy eyes, afraid if she opened her mouth to answer, that some unwanted matter would make its way onto Logan's shirt. He put the back of his hand to her forehead. "You feel a little hot. I know there's a flu going around… are you sure you still want to go to Luke's?"

Rory swallowed hard, which seemed to subside any other nausea she may have been feeling for the moment.

"I don't have the flu. And yes," she managed. "Especially now. I'm starving."

Logan smiled. Only Rory could still think of food at a time like this. "Okay. But promise if you're still not feeling better tomorrow that you'll go see a doctor."

"Scout's honor," she said, holding up her hand. "I'll be out in a minute. Just let me freshen up."

Logan closed the bathroom door behind him, and Rory could hear him opening the closet and getting on his coat and scarf. She went to the sink and splashed some cold water on her face. She gargled some spearmint mouthwash and opened the cabinet under the sink to find the Advil. She got down on her hands and knees, pushing Lysol, aloe and Vaseline, amongst an assortment of other household items out of the way. She found the bottle, grabbed it, and made to stand up when she noticed out of the corner of her eye the unopened box of tampons in the corner. She stopped.

The wheels in her head started turning, a mental calendar unfurling like a Rolodex in her mind. _When was the last time she had gotten her period?_ She was probably overreacting. She was sure she had it last month, but she wasn't so sure about this month. It was the end of November, and she usually expected it around the fifteenth. Being sick sometimes threw her off schedule, but repeated vomiting this early in the morning for two days straight without a spot of blood in sight…It was nothing, she firmly decided, discarding the ridiculous thought from her head. After a moment's more hesitation, Rory stood up and slammed the cabinet shut, as if doing so would eradicate the possibility that she was pregnant.

She stepped out of the bathroom and went downstairs where she retrieved her coat and other winter clothing from the closet in the foyer.

"Ready to go?" Logan asked.

"Yeah," she said, perhaps a bit too quietly.

Logan wrinkled his brow but didn't press it. They decided to walk to Luke's as it had just started to snow. Rory always liked to revel in the first powdery wisps of the winter to come.

* * *

_Okay_, Shira thought. _I can do this_. She was a little nervous to be driving by herself from New York to Stars Hollow, the hick town her son and daughter-in-law lived in. But wait, she couldn't think like that anymore. She had to have an open mind, or at least that's what she had been telling herself since she moved to New York.

When she had broached the subject with Logan, he was hesitant at first because Rory worked in the city now and he wasn't sure if she might need the apartment for late nights at the office. But then he remembered that his mom had been so much better since the wedding. Ever since talking to Rory, Rory herself had been much more open to the idea of Shira being in their life, despite their past. It was like being free of Mitchum had flipped a switch inside her. She was a much more open person—open to ideas that didn't correspond with the Hartford mentality. And while she may have merely become more restrictive in expressing her opinions instead of truly accepting, it was a remarkable change nonetheless. And Rory did believe that although Shira may have been keeping some opinions to herself, like their choices of house and town and career, in other respects she was incredibly accepting of her children's lifestyles.

So Shira found herself driving to Stars Hollow on this winter day, watching the sky for impending snow. It was the first extended road trip she was taking by herself—her own car, no driver, just her behind the wheel with nothing more than a GPS to consult for driving directions.

Surprisingly, Logan had invited her to Thanksgiving at some place called The Dragonfly. Shira hemmed and hawed around answering, not wanting to eagerly accept or flat out decline. But she hadn't exactly been successful in finding a group of women like herself with which she could spend time—in other words, she'd been hard-pressed finding friends. Logan must have known this and recognized that the holiday season would be a difficult one for someone so recently divorced. So he casually mentioned it to his mother, and she hadn't really given a definitive answer, but Logan was expecting her. Besides, even Honor and Josh were going to be there. So if anything, it gave Shira an excuse to see her daughter who was now five months pregnant.

There was only one other thing. She had no idea what her ex-husband was up to, and she hoped with all her heart that she wouldn't have to find out with him standing there in the flesh. She didn't know what her children's respective relationships were with him. That wasn't a subject they broached often on the phone. She really wouldn't have minded talking about him, except that every word that came out of her mouth in regards to Mitchum would have been dripping with loathing, and that was a personality trait she was trying to no longer portray, even to her children. And Honor and Logan would have liked to gauge how well she was doing and how much she still hated their father, but somehow neither ever felt comfortable enough to say something. The resulting fission reaction would have been too unpredictable to control, even with a moderator. Needless to say, there were a lot of unknowns going into this dinner, Shira's presence being one of them. It was going to be an interesting evening, she thought, as she was now out of the city, and mindlessly passing green exit sign after green exit sign, waiting for the one that said "Stars Hollow, one mile."

* * *

Colin wasn't a huge fan of the red eye, partly because he could never sleep on airplanes, which was the whole point of taking the flight, and partly because the movie of the same name had scared the crap out of him. But while the plane hunkered down for the night and most people threw a coarse fleece airline blanket over themselves and tried to get some sleep, Colin found he actually enjoyed the solitude. The silence was eerie; nothing more than the pattering of feet muted by the carpet in the aisles and the white glows of laptops surrounded him. He reclined his seat and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and let the memories wash over him.

_Him and Stephanie making out in the woods at the LDB event._

_ The two of them studying in the library while they nudged each other's feet under the table. _

_ Talking for hours on the couch, under a blanket with hot chocolate and a fire to keep them warm._

_ Head banging at a U2 concert, their mutually favorite band._

_ Drinking wine the night before graduation, getting buzzed, getting lost in each other's kisses, whispering promises deep into the night._

_ The fighting that began to permeate their relationship when they felt themselves pulling in different directions._

That was the part he didn't want to remember. He had glossed it all over in the past few months, made it seem that they hadn't been fighting and had merely lost touch, but he couldn't keep lying to himself. It kept him awake at night knowing he was ninety percent responsible for screwing up the best thing to ever happen to him.

A study abroad program in July took Stephanie to New Orleans. She was helping to rehabilitate the schools there and the experience had changed her. She had only gotten into education in the first place for lack of any direction, but then when she was forced to go on the trip, she came back a new person. She found she actually had a passion for teaching and working with people whose entire lives had been taken from them. It may have helped that she had a background helping her older sister cope with their father's alcohol problem. Nonetheless, he had been happy for her.

But she wanted to go to Oxford and pursue a higher degree and have a different experience before moving far away from home to continue her work. And as much as Colin hated the Hartford lifestyle imposed upon him, he couldn't give it up. Somewhere in between the weekly flights to and from the west and east coast and working for his father, he found a greater respect for himself and the work and work ethic his father had been trying to instill in him. And what was worse, or better, he actually enjoyed it. Their lives were pulling, straining against the ropes that had become entwined by love and slowly unraveling, letting the wind carry them away. Before Colin knew it, their passions were just too different. She was angry about his lack of compassion for people that had far less than he did, and even though he hated himself for it, he was angry that she had so much damn compassion for people she barely knew, when here he was only wanting them to have a life together in their own little world.

The fairy tale had ended by him storming out of her apartment off Welton street, into a cab, to the airport and all the way home. And here he was once again, on an airplane—except this time, he was finding his way back instead of running away.

* * *

"So how was the Vineyard?" Lorelai asked, unbuttoning her winter coat and unraveling her guava colored scarf. She draped the gray wool pea coat over the back of the red vinyl chair, stuffing her neck adornment into one sleeve so as not to lose it. Rory and Logan did the same and Logan excused himself to go talk to Luke who was already back in his apron, working the kitchen.

"You sounded so fancy saying 'the Vineyard'," Rory commented when he had walked away, dramatizing her words as necessary. "It was beautiful, and extremely interesting. I wouldn't have expected anything quirky or eclectic from a place Grandma and Grandpa frequent, but I was pleasantly surprised."

"Okay before you launch into a whole spiel about your article, warn me. Is it going to be all business talk or will I hear about anything _else_ that may have happened?" Lorelai asked, lowering her voice for the last part and shifting her eyes towards Logan whose back was to the table as he sat at the counter and waited to get Luke's attention.

"_Mom!_ Let me ask you. How was your 'camping trip?' Is it going to be all hiking and icky insects or will I hear about anything _else_ that happened?"

"First of all, don't say 'camping trip' as if it was just an excuse to go do extremely dirty things with my amazing boyfriend. I actually like camping."

"Oh so you've learned to embrace nature after this weekend? I thought that happened a long time ago," Rory said with a smirk.

"As a matter of fact I have," Lorelai said with a dramatic huff, the likes of which would have made Vivienne Leigh clutch her Oscar for fear of losing it to a rival Scarlett O'Hara.

"Why are you so eager to know what Logan and I have been up to anyway?" Rory asked, putting a French fry in her mouth from the plate Caesar had just put on the table. She glanced over at Logan to see his head bent together with Luke's over the counter, talking about something.

"I'm really not, trust me. But your grandmother has been weird lately. Ever since the possible move to California, she's been obsessed with the idea that she's losing you. She's afraid you won't be seeing that much of each other so she keeps bringing up the fact that all of her friends have great-grandchildren and she doesn't."

Rory choked and sent her French fry shooting out of her mouth. "I beg your pardon? Logan and I got married five_ months_ ago and she's already talking about great-grandchildren? Why, does she figure that'll give me an excuse to come see her or vice versa?"

"Now honey I tried to tell you all those years ago that Grandma was crazy, but you wouldn't listen to momma. You were too distracted with the nice, shiny presents she sent you to care. That and you were like five so unless I was wearing a Barney costume, getting your attention was pretty difficult."

"Grandma knows she can come visit whenever she wants. And we still have monthly Friday night dinners."

"Ah, no. You and Logan have monthly Friday night dinners. Luke and I, however, still suffer through them on a weekly basis."

"Well I'll have to surreptitiously clear the air later. They _are_ coming, right?"

"Oh yes Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore, party of two, won't you please sit down next to Kirk our multi-talented town clown? Or perhaps you'd be more comfortable next to Babette while she chews your ear off and Morey while he hums jazz tunes all night. I'm never going to live this dinner down."

"Then why are they coming?"

"They want to see the prodigal granddaughter. Richard probably just to talk about books and Emily to prod you about future offspring. So seriously, any plans? Because I need a patented answer to field her questions at every subsequent Friday night dinner."

Rory didn't answer, but merely shrugged and ducked her head as she looked over at Logan who was walking back towards the table. She quickly averted her eyes as the past few days flooded her memory. It was not something she and Logan had talked about—kids, that is. They had never really broached the subject after looking after Davey and Martha. It had just been forgotten, but now there was a very real possibility that they were going to have to deal with it in the very near future.

"Rory. Earth to Rory!" Lorelai's voice came back into focus as she snapped out of it. Logan was sitting next to her again and Luke had just pulled up a chair. "Geez what planet were you on. Your food is getting cold." The table resumed its conversation and milieu as Rory gave a weak smile and mustered all the strength she could to take a bite of her hamburger.

* * *

Logan knew enough to leave the Gilmore girls to their own devices after having been separated for an extended period of time. He took the opportunity to leave the table at the diner and go talk to Luke who had left a separate message on Logan's cell phone requesting that he do just that. Plus, he needed a little more testosterone in his life.

Luke looked up from serving someone an omelet at the counter to see Logan approaching. He nodded to acknowledge his presence, and then ducked back into the kitchen to wipe his greasy hands on a rag and put his apron on one of the coat hooks. He came out and leaned on the counter in front of Logan who was seated on a stool.

"It looks like the great outdoors did wonders for you, Luke," Logan commented, noticing Luke's more relaxed, generally content manner.

"Yeah, yeah it was nice."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Even with Lorelai?" he said, the tone of his voice rising with the question as he had trouble reconciling the images of camping and his mother-in-law.

"Especially because of Lorelai," Luke said seriously and pointedly.

Logan was surprised. He had expected some light joke at Lorelai's expense, but Luke was definitely not in that kind of mood. "So you said you needed to talk on the phone. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, you know I didn't really know who to talk to about this. I don't really have any close friends whose opinion I care enough about so I figured, you know, you have some experience in this area so I'd ask you." Luke had lowered his voice so only Logan could hear him. Both had their heads bent together for privacy.

"Ask me about what Luke?" Logan said quietly, almost whispering as he felt the occasion somehow warranted such a tone of voice.

Luke hesitated for a moment, shuffling his feet, as he was obviously very anxious about the implications of the impending question. "I want to propose to Lorelai," he said finally, exhaling his anxiety.

"Luke, that's great. Did you talk to Richard?" he asked quickly.

"Yeah, yeah I um talked to her dad and he even gave me Emily's grandmother's ring and I got it sized and all that."

"Well buddy it looks like you've got it all covered. So how do you want to do it?"

"Yeah well that's the part that I was having trouble with."

"I may not be the best person to ask. The first time I proposed, Rory rejected me."

"Yeah but the second time I have a feeling was pretty special, or she wouldn't have said yes."

Logan thought back to that day and smiled, despite what had preceded the joviality. "So… any advice?"

"Wait for the right moment. Make sure it's something you'll really both remember. Maybe while she's doing something she loves, so she'll always connect the memory to that activity. At least this is what Josh told me before I proposed to Rory. I screwed it up, but I don't think you will."

Luke nodded, taking it all in. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, that was...this is good," he said, still lost in thought, nodding repeatedly.

Logan smiled. "There's one more thing."

"What's that?" Luke said quickly, eagerly even.

"Don't be nervous."

Luke laughed uneasily. He was already nervous just thinking about it. "It's just that the last time we were at this point, she proposed because I couldn't and the whole thing just went downhill from there."

"Well this time must be different if you're considering it. You'll be fine. Now I believe we have two lovely ladies waiting for us at that table over there." Logan peered over his shoulder and caught Rory's gaze. He gave her a smile and walked over and sat down. Luke joined them a minute later, the two men not even daring to exchange glances for fear of giving anything away.

* * *

"Love, I do believe if you don't stop this madness right now, we will never make it in time for Thanksgiving dinner," said Finn, retracting slowly from a prolonged kiss he shared with his girlfriend. Finn and Rosaline were sprawled under the top sheet of their bed in the hotel that Finn's family owned in Hartford.

"Then let's skip dinner," she said, smiling up at Finn from where she was contently tucked underneath his right arm.

'Dinner' came out more like 'din-ah' with her beautifully thick accent that made Finn feel like he was being coated with sweet molasses every time it hit his ear; the lethargy of the words slowly dripping though his ear canal like the thick, syrupy stuff.

To convince him further, she flipped over and started placing a trail of kisses along his chest until she reached his lips.

He groaned, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but anticipating the introductions that were to come and seeing Colin and Logan again. "Come on love. Everyone is so excited to meet you."

Rosaline sighed and unsaddled herself from Finn's hips. "As am I to meet them," she said, getting off the bed and moving to the dresser. She started to pull out some clothes.

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't mind it if you didn't wear any clothes at all," he said, smirking at her from across the room.

Rosaline turned her head and shot him a dry look. "I'm not sure these Americans are too accustomed to my native ways. Best to hit them with it tomorrow, perhaps when they've gotten to know me better," she retorted sarcastically.

"Well I suppose it is a bit chilly out there isn't it?" Finn said with mock disappointment in his voice. "Oh well," he exclaimed, throwing off the covers and jumping out of bed, revealing the same stark nakedness Rosaline was sporting. "I'll just have to keep you warm myself," he added, coming up behind her and pinching one bare butt cheek before wrapping her in his arms.

"I'll opt for the sweater," she remarked, turning away from Finn and throwing a navy and white wool sweater on the bed. Suddenly, she drew in closer to Finn. "But later," she whispered, "you can take it right off again."

Finn purred after her in a stunning likeness to Austin Powers as she walked into the bathroom to take a shower. She closed the door and Finn turned his head back towards the armoire. The mirror hanging above the drawers revealed a tall, lanky, well-built young man with a cap of curly jet-black hair adorning his mildly tanned body. There was a smile etched into his face, not the usual mark of mischief that twisted his lips. This was a kind of bliss that no stink bomb released in the dining hall could ever procure. The only explanation was love.

* * *

"Now you're sure you're okay to go tonight? Because if you're not, I'm perfectly content to stay here and order in Chinese food and call it a successful Thanksgiving." Josh was dressed in his suit as he sat on the futon in their living room. Honor was standing in the entrance hall, her handbag on her arm, ready to leave when Josh's fretting stopped her. As she walked back toward him, he rose from his seat, his white dress shirt wrinkled with worry. Honor reached up to him to stiffen his collar and pull the knot of his tie down a bit. She placed a kiss on his pink lips. "You're so cute when you worry," she said when she broke away. "But I'm fine."

Josh wrung his hands together, not wholly convinced. "But the doctor said—"

"The doctor _said_ that it's perfectly okay for me to be up and around, and that I'm going to be off my feet soon enough so I may as well enjoy it while it lasts."

Josh looked at her for a moment, staring into her bluish-hazel eyes. He saw in them so much strength—strength that he couldn't seem to find in himself at the moment as he felt tears teeming on his bottom eyelids. "I just…" he said quietly, his voice squeezing through the constricted chords in his neck, coming out in a whisper. "I can't go through it again," he continued, averting his eyes to wipe the tears before they fell.

Honor's composure broke, her face creasing as her heart melted at her husband's show of emotion. She put one hand on either side of his upper arms. "Look at me," she said with incredible conviction.

He didn't comply.

She hooked his chin with her right forefinger, gently pulling it towards her so she could look at him squarely in the face. "Last time…last time we were pregnant, I was only three weeks along and then Logan had his accident. It was a lot of stress to put on a baby, dealing with my little brother possibly not coming out of a coma, and that's why I had a miscarriage. We're just lucky we hadn't told anyone yet. I mean they would have killed us if we had, assuming we got married because I was pregnant, but that is beside the point. But this time, we're five months in, and both of our families are in slightly better places."

Josh was still looking at his wife, concern buried in every line around his eyes.

Honor slid her left hand down her husband's arm and took his fingers in hers. She took hold of his hand and brought it towards her so it was lying flat against her stomach. Josh was able to feel the slightest movement. A smile crept onto his face. "That's your son," she said to him. "And he's not going anywhere."

Josh nodded. "Okay."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Good. Now let's go."

Josh picked up Honor's bag that had been thrown on the armchair and followed her out of the house, turning off the light in the entrance hall and locking the door before helping her into the car.

* * *

Dean unlocked Doose's around ten a.m. Unlike the rest of Stars Hollow, he didn't have much to do today. His mother was cooking dinner tonight for his father, sister and himself, and that was going to be the Forester Thanksgiving. Taylor happened to be in Massachusetts this week with his family, so he had somewhat reluctantly given his best worker, home on break, control of the store.

Dean had a quiet morning stacking displays of cans, mopping the floors, chucking out rotten vegetables and reorganizing the stock room. He put all the boxes of most-needed Thanksgiving items in front because very often customers would come running in requesting a box of stuffing, having burned theirs or some similar emergency. Dean put together a paper bag of items his mother had asked him to bring home and he put it under the counter for later, after deducting the purchase from his salary on Taylor's checkout system.

The store hadn't seen much traffic other than that, so Dean was resting against the counter, reading a textbook. After his divorce from Lindsay, she and her family moved away and Dean moved back into his parents' house. He had to admit that in the beginning, the judgmental looks he got whenever he went from the kitchen to the living room from his mom or dad had become unbearable. At least from his sister, he got pity. She had never liked Lindsay to begin with. It made Dean wish he had listened to her, or listened to himself, really, when he told Rory he was getting married and she was less than thrilled. He should have realized then that he was only doing it to convince himself that he was over Rory, but he hadn't been. He still wasn't.

After weeks of living in that kind of oppression, he exploded. He told his family everything they were never supposed to know about the circumstances, about why he had done it, why he hated living with Lindsay and her demanding ways. They came to understand eventually, but his mother was really upset by the whole experience. There were still days when she would look at him forlornly, deep sadness in her eyes that his life was turning out to be so much less than he deserved.

Dean heard the bells above the door ring and he sighed. He looked at his textbook, realizing he had only read half a page and he got up from his position on the floor to tend to the customer.

* * *

After lunch, Luke closed up the diner and Lorelai made her way over to the Inn to see how Michel and Sookie were doing with the preparations. Luke and Logan went back to the Crap Shack, and Rory said that she'd meet them there, since she had to get something at Doose's.

The streets were mostly empty, as was Doose's, she determined, peering through the window before entering. She went in quickly, cursing the bells for alerting the store to her presence and ducked behind the first rack she saw. She walked slowly, past toothpaste and deodorant, notebooks and boxes of tissues, powdered milk and flour before coming to a stop near the vitamins. She reached behind her to get a green plastic shopping basket. She filled it with a few cans of gravy and flour so as not to look suspicious, before grabbing a pregnancy test and burying it under a bag of apples she also picked up. Oh crap. Those damn apples were a better pregnancy test than any plastic stick that you had to pee on. Gilmore's didn't eat fruit. They especially didn't eat apples unless…

She had to stop thinking like this. There was no definite that she was pregnant. A lot of this could be coincidence. But why was she so scared? She was married, she had a good job. She decided that the timing was just not right. But then again it didn't really matter. She'd know for sure soon enough.

When she was convinced that the box was hidden in her basket sufficiently, she rounded the corner near the freezer section, passing the end cap of the infamous cornstarch, to go to check out. And who should be standing there but Dean Forester.

She stopped dead in her tracks. He was the only employee there, the only person there. She could leave but she really needed the test. After mentally coaching herself that she could do this, she could face him after not having seen him for months, she approached the counter.

Dean must not have seen her, but he had definitely heard the bells. He was reading a calculus textbook of all things as she came up to him. Without looking up, he said "Welcome to Doose's, how can I help you today?" He shut the book and put it on the counter, looking up finally into those blue eyes that always hit him like a bucket of ice water. "Rory…"

"Dean," she said casually, trying to keep her tone even.

He cleared his throat. "Um…can I take that—"

"Oh right the basket," she said, becoming frazzled in the moment.

As she lifted it onto the counter, she knocked it against the side and sent it toppling to the floor. Dean watched as the cans of gravy rolled away and the sack of flour hit the floor, sending a puff of white dust into the air. The apples followed the gravy and Dean came around the counter to help Rory clean it up as she swooped to the floor to gather her things. He successfully retrieved the apples and flour and both he and Rory went for the same can of gravy to pick up. Their hands touched and something like an electric shock ignited her fingertips. Dean laughed nervously at the mistake and went for the last can, which Rory noticed was hiding the pregnancy test. She lunged after both the can and test, shoving them back into the basket, but not before Dean saw the tip of the pink box. He pretended like he hadn't noticed and got up to finish the sale.

"So what are you reading there?" she said as the scanner blipped when Dean passed the gravy's bar code over the red light.

"Oh it's um, it's calculus actually. Apparently you need it if you want to go into construction."

"You're back in college?" she said, pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah it's a small state school two hours away. I got a partial scholarship, but my parents can afford the rest, and I really needed to get out of the house after the…well you know."

"Yeah."

"So, um, how are you? I haven't seen you since like April around here."

"Well you've been away at school," she said, a little too coldly.

"That's true, but what have you been up to? Last I heard you were on some campaign trail?"

"Well actually, my plans changed. Logan and I got married and we moved back here and I got a job at the New York Times."

"That's great! It's…it's everything you ever wanted," he said. He couldn't help but think that he would never be able to have everything he ever wanted. Rory was taken. She'd moved on. "And congratulations to you and Logan."

"Thanks, Dean." She looked at him, trying to read his infallible face. "How're you doing…considering?"

He was hesitant to answer. "I'm good," he said, spreading his hands out on the counter. "Lindsay moved away so it's a little easier. And the town's lightened up a bit so…"

"So you don't talk to her?"

"Not too often, if I can help it."

Rory nodded, not really in a position to comment, not that she wanted to. The last time she dared have an opinion on his personal life, things didn't work out so well.

He had finished the flour and gravy and Rory put the bag of apples and test in one handful on the conveyor belt, hoping to disguise the pink box. Dean counted the apples, punched the number in and then saw the pink box coming down the black strip of rubber. Rory looked away. He put his hand on it to swipe it over the scanner, and he wasn't going to say anything, but Rory turned to him suddenly.

"Please don't say anything to anyone Dean."

He looked up at her. "I won't. I wouldn't. You don't think I'd really gossip, do you?"

She looked pained. She didn't want him to think she didn't trust him. Their friendship was fragile enough as it was. "No. I don't. Really I don't. But I can never tell how angry you are at me for the way things ended between us."

"I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you, Rory. I loved you. A lot. I—"

"Don't, Dean. Don't say you still do."

"But I do."

"Dean! Don't you understand how hard this is for me? Living here, knowing I might run into you when I have to do something as arbitrary as going to the store, knowing I ruined your marriage and your life and… you?"

"Oh because this whole thing is such a walk in the park for me, is that it?" he said, his voice rising.

"See, you're still mad."

"God, Rory! You think I'm going to go tell Miss Patty that you were buying a pregnancy test just to spite you?! I'm mad, sure, but not that mad. Not at you."

Rory wasn't sure what to say. She stood there in silence, letting the angry heat around them dissipate a little before speaking. "I'm sorry. It's just that Logan doesn't know that there's even a possibility…we haven't even really talked about it. I'm just scared that he'll find out something from someone else before I tell him. You know how this town gets." She didn't know why she had told him all that. She hadn't even told Lorelai that. Maybe she felt like she owed him something, some kind of explanation for at least one thing, because she hadn't been able to give him very many in the past.

"You're secret's safe with me," he said, emotionless. He handed her the paper bag.

"Thank you. Have a nice Thanksgiving," she said, quickly grabbing the bag from him and leaving the store. She all but ran down the street and out of his sight.

* * *

Emily threw the excess of her earthy-toned scarf over her shoulder and patted her permed red hair while she looked in the mirror in the entrance hall. Her black winter coat was already on. She checked her watch.

"Richard! We're going to be late!" she yelled through the house to her husband who was still in the bedroom getting dressed. _What on earth could be taking him so long?_ she said to herself.

A moment later, Richard came down the stairs in a salt and pepper suit, attaching his right cufflink as his black loafers hit the last step.

"Late for what? The ceremonial turkey impersonation?" The maid approached him, holding out his own winter coat. She helped him into it, receiving a curt "Thank you" in return.

Emily sighed. "I know these Stars Hollow events can be quite droll, but our daughter invited us, and we can count on one hand the amount of times _that's_ happened. Besides, Rory and Logan will be there. They _moved_ there—there must be something redeeming about the place."

"Well I suppose we'll have to find out then. Ready to go dear?" he asked her, as if she had been the one scrambling to put her cufflinks on.

She rolled her eyes in recognition of the irony, though unbeknownst to Richard. "Yes dear," she remarked, starting out the door with her husband on her heels.

* * *

"So you don't think you'll be home for Thanksgiving?" Lane said, the disappointment heavy in her voice. Steve and Kwan were peacefully sleeping in their cribs, so she spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry babe, it just doesn't seem like a possibility. Things are pretty crazy out here," Zach said, talking to his wife on his cell phone during a five-minute break from recording.

"That's…good I guess," she said, flopping down on the couch.

"It's really good! Going on that summer tour as a lead guitarist was a total exposure move. And they wouldn't have asked Hep Alien out to California if they didn't like what they heard in Maine last month after we got the band back together. We're laying down the demo tracks and then Marc is gonna blitz every major recording label in California with our stuff. With any luck we'll be signing with Modern Helium's label within a few weeks. Basically the idea is to get a bunch of counter offers to get them to step up, but ultimately we're gunning for Modern Helium to pick us up once and for all."

"I'm so excited for you guys. I just miss you, and the boys miss their daddy."

"I miss 'em too. Can you hold them up to the phone?"

"They're sleeping right now, babe but maybe later tonight?"

"Yeah okay," Zach said, clearly bummed. "Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, remembering something. "Colton laid your drum track over our vocals and guitar so you're on the demo without actually being a part of the studio recording."

"I'm glad, but we're not going to be able to keep this up forever, me recording from home and you guys recoding out there."

"We'll figure it out. We should be wrapping this up tomorrow night and then I'm on the next flight home. If we get any bites with the demo, I'll have to fly back, but maybe your mom can babysit for a few days so you can come with."

"We'll see, okay? Say hi to Brian and Gil. Don't have too much fun without me."

"Okay, love you. Eat some turkey for me."

"I will. Love you. Bye."

"Bye, babe."

Lane pushed the off button on the portable and lay against the couch cushions. Not only was California straining her patience, but also her relationship with her mother. Mrs. Kim was not thrilled that her son-in-law was gone a lot of the time, especially when every time she saw her daughter, she looked more and more exhausted, partially due to taking care of twins by herself and partially due to the fact that she seldom had time to practice her own music. Mrs. Kim would never say anything of course, because it was no longer her place, but Lane wasn't so dense that she couldn't see it. She hoped having Thanksgiving dinner at her mother's with just her and the boys wouldn't be too awkward an experience.

* * *

It wasn't like he was missing Christmas dinner or anything, but it was Thanksgiving, after all. The holidays in California took on a vastly different characterization than they did on the east coast. Where there was meant to be snow, there was sand. Where there was meant to be evergreens, there were palm trees. And where there was meant to be family, there was no one.

It hadn't bothered Mitchum too much because the Huntzbergers had never really put too much stock in the holidays. But something about being the only patron in the bar on Friday night, drinking a club soda and lime as he watched the football game on the grainy twelve by twelve television kind of got to him.

"We're closing up, Mitch," the bartender called over to him. Tom had come to know him as he frequented the establishment after work. There at least he felt surrounded by people, like he was a part of this civilization instead of merely living in it. At the nice home Logan had purchased, he had basically all the amenities of his old life, save the servants. There was something comfortable and eerily familiar about that fact. Wasn't that the life he was trying to repudiate? And yet there was mild solace when he spent long hours alone in knowing something familiar.

Mitchum sat at the lacquered table a moment longer, swirling his highball in circles, dragging the melted condensation around the shellacked surface. The smell of antiseptic lingered in the air as Tom ran his rag over the last tabletop and placed the final chair upside down upon its face. The fanfare of the TV died out when the bartender clicked it into a dormant state. Mitchum threw a twenty on the bar on his way out.

"Happy Thanksgiving," Tom called after him.

No response followed as the door closed behind him.

The Whole Foods down the street had let Mitchum in a minute after it too had officially closed its doors for the Thanksgiving holiday.

"You're lucky we had this left," the woman selling him the fresh cut turkey remarked as she weighed and packaged it. "Someone forgot to pick up their order."

"One man's loss is another man's treasure," Mitchum commented matter-of-factly. He received a curt smile and was handed his package.

When he got home, he threw the brown and green paper on the kitchen table and somewhat ravenously tore into the meat as it was—straight off the paper, cold. Mitchum stopped mid bite to smile. Bits of shredded meat clung to his fingertips, and as he had an outer body experience, saw what he looked like from a bird's eye view, he laughed. Shira would have had a heart attack if she had seen him eating like this, especially had it been in their own home. It gave him a greater sense of satisfaction that the home wasn't all so familiar, that he was able to make it his own, how he wanted it, in whatever small way possible. But the thought saddened him at the same time. Somewhere deep down, he longed for her presence again, even if it was only to criticize how he chose to eat his food.

* * *

Rory walked in the front door of The Dragonfly Inn. After her run-in with Dean, she didn't trust herself to be home by herself, and she needed to clear her head before talking to Logan, if she was going to bring it up at all. At some point during her walk she had wandered there, probably because she was way over due for some serious girl talk with her mother.

She unraveled her scarf as the wind-sting redness receded from her cheeks. She wandered into the dining room where Lorelai and Sookie were briefing the staff on the evening festivities.

"Marco, I'm putting you on Bootsy duty. No more than three beers this year. If he bothers you for more, you have my full permission to throw him out."

Marco nodded and Lorelai checked the Bootsy situation off her list. When she looked up, her eyes found Rory, who gave her a slight wave. Lorelai acknowledged her, conveying that she'd have to wait a few minutes.

"Okay, wait staff, re-assemble in the kitchen for a run-down on the menu, and when we're done, Lorelai needs the waiters to clean the antique silverware and put it out," Sookie chimed in. The waiters and chefs followed Sookie into the kitchen.

"Okay, people, I think we're done here. Feel free to take a break if you don't have anything to do right now. Guests will be arriving at seven o'clock, so we need everyone back in the dining room at six thirty. And…break!" The staff of the Dragonfly Inn dispersed except for those that had pressing questions for Lorelai, which she answered as she walked towards the front desk. Rory sat down in a leather chair in the library to wait for Lorelai, if she ever got a free moment.

Rory thumbed through an antique book with a royal blue cover and gold leaf pages. Lorelai came rushing into the room a moment later, blissfully free of papers and employees and anything related to Thanksgiving dinner.

Lorelai sat across from Rory in an identical chair. "What's up hon?"

Rory looked warily at her mother for a moment. She put the book down on the coffee table. She wrung her hands in her lap and finally reached down to the floor on the right side of her chair where the paper bag from Doose's was sitting. She picked it up and offered it to her mother.

Lorelai took it and stuck her hand in. "Gravy…flour…more gravy and flour…you wanted to buy Sookie a present? I'll have Michel bring this to her," she said, removing each can and sack.

"There's more," Rory said flatly.

"Okay," Lorelai replied, sticking her hand in once again. She felt around inside, trying to discern without looking what was in the bag. "Some sort of small box and…" Her hand brushed the bag of apples. She grasped one of the hard pieces of fruit through the plastic, affirming that it was in fact what she thought it was. "Apples. You bought apples."

"I bought apples," Rory repeated quietly.

"Okay, let's go."

"Go? Go where? Mom, I just bought apples. Are you not comprehending the gravity of the situation?"

"No, I am comprehending the gravity of the situation, that's why we're going home. Well back to your home, not mine because Luke and Logan are there."

"But the dinner—"

"The dinner can wait. This can't."

"Okay," Rory said, silenced once and for all. Lorelai was already half way out the door anyway, calling a message to Michel who didn't hear her because he was reading People magazine.

The girls came through the front door of Rory's home, not having spoken for the drive over. Neither could really think of anything to say.

Lorelai took charge of the situation, because she knew that if it were up to Rory, she'd just sit on the couch and worry without being proactive. Lorelai placed the paper bag on the credenza and extracted the ominous pink box. Rory couldn't meet her eyes.

"Rory, take the box."

"I can't."

"Why not?" Lorelai asked impatiently.

Rory undid her coat and draped it over the back of the oversized armchair in her living room. "Because, Logan and I haven't talked about this yet. I'm not ready, I can't…I just can't."

"Rory, honey, I wish there was something I could do. This is the one test I can't make a joke out of taking for you and make it all go away. This is not as scary as you're making it out to be. You're married, you have a job and a house and you're twenty-three to boot. When I was in this position I—"

"I know. You were sixteen and way too young and didn't have anywhere to go."

"Yeah, and even if this test tells you something you don't want it to, Logan will still love you. I will still love you. And…this could be a really good thing. Hell, I got you out of the whole ordeal when I was in your shoes."

Rory looked up at her mother. "Fine, I'll take the test."

Without saying a word, Lorelai pulled the plastic stick from the box and handed it to Rory. Rory walked silently to the bathroom and closed the door quietly. Lorelai sat on the couch and flipped through Architectural Digest.

_Okay_, Rory thought to herself. _Just get it over with_. The whole time she was in the bathroom, she was trying to make peace with the fact that she could be pregnant. She had to convince herself that she was prepared, regardless of the result, or she might break down. Why was it scaring her so much anyway? She knew all those things her mother said were true, so why was she so afraid? She liked her life just the way it was, and she wasn't ready for any abrupt changes at the moment—that was one good reason. She liked her job, her and Logan were in a good place, everything seemed…stable. She liked stable. At some point she assumed she'd want to shake things up, but right now was not that point. She took a deep breath and left the stick on the sink counter. She waited.

Architectural Digest was not necessarily the best reading material when one was trying to distract oneself. It was easy for Lorelai to put up the calm, cool, and collected front for Rory, because she had to. She was very good at doing what she had to do to keep the world and people around her from falling apart, but she had never mastered her skill enough for it to affect her inner well-being. Inside, she was just as torn up at Rory was. If Rory had been all gung-ho about the idea, then Lorelai would have been jumping up and down with her. But she wasn't, and if Rory was uncomfortable, that made Lorelai uncomfortable, because she didn't like when Rory felt like she couldn't handle something. It never mattered really, because whatever curve balls life threw at Rory, she caught them. She figured out a way to be prepared even when she wasn't. But it affected Lorelai all the same.

Rory opened the door a minute later. Lorelai looked up, page turned in mid air.

"It's negative," Rory said, breaking into a smile for the first time that day. Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief. She put the magazine down and met Rory half way, who collapsed into her mother's hug.

Lorelai moved away after a moment. "Thank God. This is a 'thank God,' right?"

"Yes. This is definitely a 'thank God…' at least for right now."

"All right, babe, I gotta get back to the Inn, but I'm a phone call away if you need me. Go get some rest, you must just have a twenty-four hour bug or something. And make sure the boys make it over to the Inn by seven, okay?"

Rory nodded, hugging herself to keep from shaking. Lorelai left, and Rory sank down on her couch. She turned the TV on with a deft click of a button. She didn't like this feeling. Her stomach twisting up in knots wasn't just from the twenty-four hour bug or the nervosa of waiting for the test to give her an answer. It was the feeling that she was afraid to tell Logan about something that was a significant part of her life and hence his as well. She didn't want to feel that ever again, and after resolving that she was going to talk to him, after removing that brick from her shoulders, she let her muscles relax into the cushions, letting them take over so she could rest.

* * *

Logan walked home from the Crap Shack, the stringent air paralyzing his lungs. He came through the front door as silently as possible, assuming and hoping that Rory was asleep. He peeked over the half-wall in the foyer to see the top of Rory's head reclined against the plump white couch cushions. Logan smiled, happy Rory was taking a much-deserved break.

He turned the corner to hang his coat in the closet.

And then he stopped.

Sitting on the credenza next to the mail was a slender pink box. Its rightful contents were not inside, leaving Logan to assume they were somewhere else—possibly in the bathroom.

"Hey," Rory said blearily, getting up from the couch and rubbing her eyes. "Did you just get home?"

He turned to her, taking the box in his hand. He tried to keep calm. "Rory, is there something you want to tell me?" He faced her fully, the box between them. She drew in her breath as invisibly as possible.

"I took a pregnancy test," she said evenly, trying to gauge what his reaction would be.

"And?"

Was that eager alacrity she detected in his voice? "Logan, you can't seriously be excited about this."

"So you're pregnant?"

"No, it was negative. But that's not the point."

"How is that not the point, Rory? We're married, we're happy…would it be so horrible if we had children? Is it so bad to want to procreate?"

"Of course not Logan. I want that for us too, but…not now!" Her exasperation had risen and bubbled out, coating each syllable she spat at him. God she hated herself like this—yelling at her incredibly sweet husband who wanted nothing more than to have a real life with her.

Her angry pacing ended in an abrupt 180, hoping to catch the same fury in Logan's eyes. His eyes were cast towards the floor, the box limply hanging from his hand. He had nothing to say. Feeling worse, she sat down on the couch, aggressively running her fingers through her hair. "We talked about this, Logan," she said meekly, quiet and sad.

He sat next to her, so gently he hardly made an impression in the cushions. "Did we? Did we have 'the kid' conversation? Because all I remember is you beating around the bush every time it came up, even in jest."

"I don't mean that we talked about it like that, just that when I said yes to your proposal on the condition that we wouldn't 'settle down' just yet, this was the kind of thing I was talking about. We both just started exciting new careers, we're still getting used to married life, as wonderful as it has been. Everything's still fresh and I think we still have a lot of worldly and personal exploring to do before we take that next step."

"I get where you're coming from and I don't want to fight about this. I'm sorry I got so excited and heated…it's just something I've wanted ever since…"

"Ever since when?" Rory said, taking his hand in hers.

"Ever since I met you, Rory. I had a crappy childhood…let's face it; you showed me that I didn't have a childhood at all. I was basically born wearing a boarding school uniform and business suit with a Yale pin attached to the lapel. But when I met you, I realized I was being given a chance to create the exact opposite of that life for someone else." He looked into her eyes.

His gaze was so sincere, so genuine. He was rarely so serious about anything. Her heart ached for the disappointment she had caused him this afternoon. She followed his eyes as they looked downward towards their intertwined hands.

"Do you see these rings?" she asked him softly. He stroked the diamond wedding band and engagement ring with his thumb, rubbing them over and over, back and forth until the stones were warm to the touch, as if trying to evoke some magical power from their crystalline structures.

He nodded in response. She smiled at the endearing gesture. "These rings mean that I made a promise to you. When we got engaged I made a promise to traverse the world and eventually settle down in it. When we got married, I made a promise to do all those things with you. And I intend to make good on my promise, both parts of it. We've done a lot of exploring already, but there's so much more out there. In a few years, we'll both be tired of it, we'll have had our share, and we'll be better parents for it. We'll have more perspective to share with our children than we currently do as newly married college graduates. Doesn't that sound better than just jumping head first into parenthood?"

Logan smiled, still stroking the ring. "Yeah, it does."

She pulled his chin upwards with the crook of her finger. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He leaned in for a kiss but instead pulled her against him, her back against his chest.

"So no kids for a while," she summarized after a few beats of silence.

"No kids for a while," he confirmed, gently caressing her silky brown stems of hair pulled tight against the top of her head into a ponytail. But the whole experience had got him thinking. Even though they were in agreement about no kids for a while, his mind became filled with images of what that part of his life with Rory would one day look like. And to his pleasant surprise, the pictures were a lot less grainy than he had expected. In fact, they were pretty clear. They were pretty perfect.

* * *

**A/N: Long chapter, I know, but I'm trying to give you guys as much as possible when I can. Still busy with school and all of that. Anyway, for chapters 19 and 20, I have a special request. I paid very close attention to the dialogue for these 2 chapters, and if you wouldn't mind reviewing the story specifically in regards to the quality of the dialogue, that would be great. I want to see if I was able to portray all the different characters well with what I had them say, and especially in conversation with each other. Thanks, and happy reading!**


	20. The Whole Fam Damily

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS.

**A/N: Warning: Some mild language in this chapter. **

* * *

Logan and Rory arrived at the Dragonfly smartly dressed. Not too fancy for the occasion, but just enough right and proper to appease her grandparents. She thought she'd at least make them feel slightly more comfortable if they weren't the only two nicely dressed people in the room, at least by their standards.

When they came through the front door, tracking snow, a pissy Michele chastised their carelessness and took a hair dryer to the wet spots, mumbling something about lawsuits and insurance under his breath. Logan smirked, trying to contain his laughter. For all the time he'd been here, there were still quirks he'd yet to get used to.

Lorelai was nowhere in sight so Rory and Logan meandered into the library where the crowd of Stars Hollow residents was gathering for the much anticipated Thanksgiving dinner. Logan sat in an unoccupied brown leather armchair while Rory struck up a conversation with Miss Patty, who kept sneaking uncomfortably inappropriate glances at Logan while Rory blushed. Logan could only assume Miss Patty had resumed her never-ending conversation about Logan's overt "sexiness."

The gathering began to increase in size, Rory making the rounds and Logan waiting for Finn and Colin to get there. Finn was bringing a surprise with him, so Logan was curious as to what could top Colin's Swiss maid debacle. And he was anxious to see his brothers whom he'd been separated from for far too long.

Honor walked in with Josh and Logan immediately went to greet them and offered Honor his chair, but she refused somewhat angrily and went to talk to Rory. At his sister's irate reaction, Logan and Josh exchanged glances that said they'd talk about it later. Logan milled around and got invested in a conversation with Andrew and Josh when Finn walked in, sporting a gorgeous redhead on his arm. Finn looked a bit dazed and confused, as he couldn't find Rory or Logan at first.

"Finneus," Logan called across the room as he made his way towards the door.

Finn wheeled around as Logan approached. "Don't call me that!"

"Are you allowed to call him that?" Logan asked the girl, bending down closer to her shoulder to inquire.

"Logan, this is Rosaline, my girlfriend, and no, she is not allowed to call me that!" he exclaimed as Rosaline suppressed a laugh.

"Not as of now, but since Logan has put the idea in my head…"

"Don't you dare!" Finn said.

Rosaline stuck out her hand for Logan to shake. "Pleasure to finally meet you Logan, I've heard a lot about you."

"Well I'd like to say none of it's true, but then I'd be lying. And I'd also like to say I've heard a lot about you, too, but you must be the lovely surprise our boy has been cryptically referring to."

Usually, Finn would have jumped in here with some witty remark, but he remained silent.

"No retort from the Aussie. You okay, Finn?"

"Yes, I just haven't seen Reporter Girl in a while and am awaiting her scintillating presence to make itself known. I have to let her down gently now that I'm taken of course. I know she's always had a thing for me."

"I believe it was the other way around if memory serves, Finn. She's right over there, I'll go get her."

When Logan submerged himself in the throng of people to find Rory, Rosaline turned to Finn. "I can see why you two are friends."

"Ah, and you've yet to meet the third Musketeer."

"Logan's right though. You do seem a bit off. Feeling all right?"

"I don't know how customs let me smuggle in such a treasure from our homeland," Finn said, lovingly looking down at his girl.

"No wooing with your romantic lines. What's wrong with you?"

"It wasn't meant to be wooing. I love you so much Rosaline, and Colin and Logan are my brothers. It would break my heart if the three of you didn't get along, so until Colin gets here, I'm just going to be a little flustered."

Rosaline smiled at her goofy boyfriend and pulled his head down for a long, passionate kiss. "I'm going to love them, because I love you."

"Thank you, Love."

Logan returned with Rory who immediately wrapped Finn in a hug. "Finn!"

"Reporter Girl! Now that's a proper use of my name. You need to coach these two."

"Well I can talk to Logan, but I don't believe we've met," Rory said, turning to Rosaline.

"My apologies. I'm Rosaline, Finn's girlfriend. I assume your real name is not Reporter Girl."

"It's not. I'm Rory Gilmore-Huntzberger, Logan's wife and Finn's friend from college."

"It's so nice to meet Finn's Yale mates! He talks incessantly about those days."

"Those were some fun times. And where is our man Colin? I thought he'd be here by now and already have hit on all the single ladies in this charming town," Finn remarked.

"Don't know, I thought you'd have an idea of his whereabouts," Logan said.

Finn shrugged and suggested that he and "Rosie" go make their rounds with Rory as their guide.

* * *

Emily and Richard came up the front walk after reluctantly leaving their car with a man at the valet. They walked inside the crowded Inn and didn't see Lorelai anywhere.

"Grandma! Grandpa! I'm so glad you guys could make it!"

"Yes, your mother promised it would be a nice evening."

"Oh it will be. You'll see, it'll be fun. Can I take your coats?"

"You're taking coats? Doesn't your mother pay someone to do that for her?" Somewhat uneasily, Rory retracted her outstretched arm and called for Michel. "Yes, Michel will take them."

He came over and did so, but with a snarky grimace aimed at Rory who only smiled in return.

"Uh, why don't you guys mingle? I'll introduce you to a few townies."

"Did she just call them trannies?" Emily whispered to Richard.

"I believe she said 'townies,' Emily. A slang term for an archetypical resident of a certain place."

"I don't see much of a difference."

"Babette, Morey, you remember my grandmother and grandfather, Emily and Richard Gilmore from the going away party," Rory said loudly, trying to talk over the bit of embarrassing dialogue her grandparents were exchanging.

"How do you do," Richard said respectfully.

"How ya doin' suga!" Babette exclaimed excitedly, slapping Richard on the back, giving him a start. Morey immediately engaged Richard in some jazz talk and Emily followed Rory to Honor who had decided to sit after all.

"Emily, how nice to see you again! How are you and Richard doing?"

"We're well thank you. I see congratulations are in order. How far along are you?" Emily asked politely.

"Five months," Honor said with a smile, placing her hand protectively over her belly as Josh arrived at her side holding a ginger ale for her consumption.

"Okay, you two talk and I'll see you both inside. I have to go catch up with Finn."

"Who, or what, is a Finn?" Emily inquired, turning her head to ask the question.

"An old friend of mine and Logan's from Yale."

"What kind of a name is 'Finn'?"

"It's short for Finneus, Grandma, just go with it."

Emily shrugged and resumed her chat with Honor.

* * *

Lorelai came out of the back with Sookie and Michel at her side.

"Hello everyone, welcome to the Dragonfly, or welcome back for many of you. We're ready to seat you now for the second annual Dragonfly Inn Thanksgiving dinner. You can all follow Michel into the dining room." The crowd started to move and Logan's cell phone rang. He quickly thrust his hand into his pocket, as if doing so would silence it.

"Ror, I'll be right back I just have to take this."

"Okay, hon," she said. She made to go into the dining room, but her mother beckoned to her wildly.

"Geez Ben Braddock, you're too late to stop Elaine's wedding this time!"

"Oh no, it is _never_ too late to stop a good wedding. Anyway, how did he take it?"

It took Rory a second, but she remembered what her mother was talking about. "He was really excited at the prospect of it, until I told him it was negative. He really wants to be a dad but we talked and he knows that's not going to be in the cards until I'm ready to settle down."

"That was…diplomatic," Lorelai said uneasily.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just, don't step on all his dreams too early—I mean, go easy on him. He's made a lot of sacrifices for you and I just want to make sure he's getting fair consideration."

"Of course he is. I want kids, just not right now. You're starting to sound like Grandma."

"Ouch! Okay, I'm done talking about this with you. I said to you when you were young if I ever started to exhibit signs of becoming my mother, that I wanted you to shoot me, and I really value my life right now."

"Good, because I don't own a gun."

"Then it's settled, Fox."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Gekko." Rory turned to the window to see Logan on the porch pacing back and forth, every now and then throwing his hand in the air in some gesticulation of exasperation.

Lorelai drew up next to her. "Everything okay? He looks agitated."

"I don't know. I'll find out later."

"Okay, I just have to tell Sookie to bring out Jackson and the waiters."

"Jackson?"

"You'll see."

"Ooh, intrigue."

Lorelai went back into the kitchen, and Rory went outside, as Logan was done with his phone call.

* * *

Outside, Logan was engaged in a somewhat perplexing conversation with Colin.

"Where are you? Finn is already here with _Rosaline_."

"Who's Rosaline?" Colin asked in a whisper.

"You'd know if you were here that she is Finn's girlfriend, yes I said girlfriend, and they seem pretty serious. Why are you whispering?"

Colin didn't answer for a moment as he held his cell phone to his ear and simultaneously moved the leaf of a plant out of the way so he could get closer to the window. "Yeah, about that…I don't think I'm gonna make it, and if I do, it will be very late."

"What! Why? Colin, what are you doing? You know you're not allowed on covert missions without at least informing Finn and I, but it's always better to bring us along for backup."

"Forgive me, I didn't think you guys would enjoy stalking Stephanie on Thanksgiving."

"You're…stalking Stephanie? I thought things ended between you two in London. Dude, just let her go, there are plenty of other fish in the sea."

"They did end, but being out in California made me realize I couldn't live without her. She's my Rory, Logan, what am I supposed to do if she won't answer my phone calls? Honor is friends with her sister, so she got me the 411 on her Thanksgiving plans, and it turns out she's going low key at her parents house, so that's where I am right now pulling a Leonardo DiCaprio in _Romeo and Juliet_—or _Catch Me if You Can_, whichever suits you."

Logan couldn't argue with Colin about this one. If Colin felt about Stephanie the way Logan felt about Rory when they were apart, then all desperate measures were sane and legal, even if they weren't. Logan sighed as he said, "Okay, just don't fall in the pool. Call if you need us and let us know how it goes. Maybe you can make it for dessert."

"I'll let you know," Colin whispered, standing on his toes to peer inside the warmly lit home at the jovial and civil dinner going on inside. Stephanie was directly in his line of sight, but he was a mere speck given the distance. "If nothing else, I'll be on your couch when you wake up tomorrow morning. I'll just sneak in the back if it's late and can't make it to the Inn. You still have the key inside the lantern, Paul Revere?"

Logan chuckled. "Yeah it's there, Frank, just don't make a complete ass of yourself."

"I'll try, but once a Democrat, always a Democrat."

"I'll fill Finn in. Bye."

"Adios, amigo." Colin snapped the phone shut and started to focus on how he was going to get himself invited to his ex-girlfriend's Thanksgiving dinner.

Logan shut the phone and put it in his pocket, just as Rory closed the front door of the Inn behind her, holding a scotch in her hand. She gave the libation to Logan with a cocktail napkin as she asked, "Who was that?"

Logan took a sip and let the amber liquid warm his digestion tract before answering. "It was Colin, he's hell bent on winning back Stephanie so he's scaling the side of her house trying to figure that one out."

"Sounds like Colin."

"Sure does. He's being ridiculous. If he just rang the bell, they'd have it out and five minutes later, they'd be making out, but who am I to counsel him on foolish matters of the heart?"

"I don't know, I think you're a pretty good sage when it comes to those," Rory teased, leaning closer to Logan.

"Ah, now that's what I needed to warm me up," Logan said, letting the glass in his hand drop into the snow so he could kiss her.

Rory broke away after a moment, her fingertips and nose red from the cold. "Come on, let's go inside. It's starting to snow again," she whispered to him, as somehow the intimate moment warranted such a tone.

"One more kiss," he returned softly.

Rory obliged, but someone clearing his throat interrupted them.

"Sorry. Is there another entrance we could use, one for servants maybe?" Jess said, staring up at them from his spot on the bottom step of the Inn porch. He was holding his half-sister Doula in his arms.

Rory and Logan separated, the heat rising to their cheeks.

Jess walked up onto the porch.

"Jess, it's good to see you again," Rory said, her eyes cast down at the snow.

Without skipping a beat, and in his brusque Jess Mariano fashion, he said, "Luke and Lorelai didn't tell you I was coming, did they?"

"No they didn't," was Logan's cool reply.

Jess was about to retort when Liz and TJ alighted on the porch. "Rory, Logan. We haven't seen you guys in ages," said Liz.

"Sure we did. At the cider festival last week, Lizzy, don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember TJ, it's just something you say to people."

"Seems like a dumb thing to say, especially if it's not true."

"Hey guys, what are you doing out on the porch? The fun's about to start!" called Lorelai, sticking her head out the window.

"Be right in, Mom!" Rory called back.

"We'll get out of your way. Besides, if these two stay out here any longer, their dementia will really start to set in." Jess held the door open for his mother and stepfather and Logan followed suit, keeping his gaze trained on Jess the whole time. Jess moved to go inside, but Rory stopped him.

"Jess, wait."

"I have to get Doula inside, I don't want her to catch a cold."

"Just wait a second. What's with the 'tude?"

"What 'tude?'"

Rory crossed her arms and gave him a 'come on' look.

"I'm sorry. I don't like him, Rory. I'll be civil. I'm not here for long, and this is his turf now, so I'll be civil. But that's all you'll get from me."

"Well if all you're being is civil towards him, then you should treat me with the same level of respect. I'm _married_ to him, Jess—"

"Thanks for the invite, by the way."

"Are you kidding me? You and Logan would have murdered each other if you had been there."

"Whatever, Rory. If we were friends, I would have at least gotten an invite. I would have had the good sense not to come."

"And I thought when I came to see you in Philadelphia, we said we'd be friends, too. But to have to be in these situations where we're making judgment calls about everything…is that what 'being friends' is going to be like? It's too much!"

"I just didn't think you'd marry him, that's all. He's not good for you."

"God, why do all my guy friends say that about who I'm with! You don't own me Jess, and I want to be friends with you. Between you and me, Luke is a second away from proposing to my mom, so we're going to be what, cousins, I guess? And all we're going to be able to manage is 'civil'? That's crazy."

"What do you want me to say, Rory?"

"If you know me at all, if you loved me at all, then you'll know I wouldn't let myself be with someone who didn't love me unconditionally and who didn't treat me right. It should satisfy you to know that if I could choose someone like you, then I must have found someone amazing to spend the rest of my life with. Think about that!"

"Is that what it will take to break down this fucking wall between us? Just my mild consideration?"

"Yes!"

"Fine!"

"Fine what?"

"Consider Logan…considered."

"So you'll stop this act?"

"I'll try. That's all I can promise."

"That's all I expect."

"Okay."

"Okay. So…Doula," she said, gesturing to the happy little girl wiggling in his arms.

"Right…Doula." He held the door for her and then went inside himself. It was going to be a long road, but if liking Logan was how he was going to get back into Rory's good graces, then that's what he'd have to do.

* * *

Everyone took their seats and Lorelai went to the head of the table to start the evening's festivities. "In 1621, the Pilgrims and the Native Americans joined together for a day of prayer and feasting to celebrate the harvest. In true American fashion, Thanksgiving has become a holiday we cherish for its tendency to put the population into a food coma while watching some good old football. Nonetheless, the staff of the Dragonfly Inn is proud to present a reenactment of that fateful day in history that allows us to be gathered here today."

Lorelai took her seat next to Luke and Rory while Jackson and Kirk emerged from the kitchen, Jackson dressed as a Pilgrim and Kirk as a Native American.

"Good sir, for all the assistance you have provided for our men this harvest, we wish to pray and sup with your people," started Jackson with a pensive bow in Kirk's direction.

"Awanata catori midjin niswi takala sooleawa sapata," Kirk replied.

"My sincerest apologies, but my countrymen and I are humble Englishmen. We are unfamiliar with your native tongue."

"I said 'The turtle spirit eats three corn tassels of the silver dancing bear.'"

"Kirk, that doesn't make any sense," Jackson whispered through clenched teeth.

"The old man who frequents the bridge in Woodbury swore to me that he spoke Native American, and that's what he told me to say."

"That's Plastered Pete, Kirk, he'll say anything for a dollar."

"Well I gave him fifty. Darn it, mother told me not to talk to strangers!" Kirk exclaimed, stamping his foot like a five-year-old.

Lorelai appeared next to Jackson and hastily whispered in his ear, "Let's get on with it, the audience is getting antsy."

"Right. Sorry," Jackson said before regaining his character's composure.

"As I was saying, we are unfamiliar with your native tongue."

"It matters not, for those who lend themselves freely to their neighbors are considered kin more so than those bound by blood."

"I take it that our proposition is most agreeable to you and your party. Please, come and take aliment and potation while we rejoice for the bounty God has put before us."

"Hajime," Kirk said, bowing first at Jackson and then at the long table of Stars Hollow residents and the like.

"That's Japanese for 'beginning,' Kirk."

"Shut up," he said sulkily, quickly going to his seat while the audience was clapping.

"And with that wonderful reenactment, we present to you, the feast!" Sookie said, emerging from the kitchen along with her waiters, who all simultaneously removed the silver lids from the serving trays of food. Genuinely impressed, everyone dug in, remarking at the quality of the food and acting.

"How'd Sookie get Jackson to do that?" Rory whispered to Lorelai.

"Threatened to withhold sex," Lorelai said without flinching as she put a piece of turkey in her mouth.

* * *

The dinner went on in an amicable fashion. Andrew and Gypsy were arguing about how helpful car manuals really are. Naturally, Andrew thought that the do-it-yourself approach one got from books was often superior to going straight to a professional, and Gypsy disagreed.

"It's so easy. You just take out the manual, look up what you need to figure out and then try it out."

"But what if you don't know what you're looking for?" Gypsy pointed out in her Spanish-affected accent.

"You check it all."

"That takes too long."

"Speed is not always necessarily efficient."

"Oi vey, here we go again," said Gypsy with exasperation, always being criticized for how rapidly she checked a car, though she was the best mechanic around for miles.

"Let's just stop so we can enjoy our meal."

"I'll stop if you stop," she said, pointing a finger at Andrew.

"Fine!"

"Fine!" They both angrily shoveled food down their throats for a few measures of silence before picking up on some new topic of conversation in light heartened tones, as if nothing had occurred.

Ms. Patty abandoned her misguided affections for Logan that evening, preferring to nudge Finn's leg under the table, causing him to tense up, though he did this less and less as more and more alcohol made it's way into his stomach. He began to enjoy the attention somewhat, and even became so buzzed he slung his arm around Miss Patty, which she surreptitiously drew closer to her neck. Lulu was entertaining Rosaline with stories of Stars Hollow and Kirk attempted to jump in now and then, feeling threatened by Rosaline's presence and trying to defend himself, as the stories often involved his failed antics.

"And then there was the time Kirk was in charge of the Easter egg hunt, but didn't make a map so he spent all night looking for thirty rotten eggs in the town square."

"I made a map. I just…ate it," Kirk interjected.

Lulu looked at him for a moment before returning to Rosaline. "And I had him watch my dog for a weekend, and he did such a good job that he struck up a business with the locals and played hide and seek with the dogs. But he lost Snuggles."

"Snuggles wasn't good at hide and seek!"

"And he wanted to try out a Stars Hollow bike service, like the ones in New York City, but could barely pedal his own weight."

"Mother always said I was fat," Kirk remarked sadly, looking down at his half eaten mashed potatoes and pushing them away.

"But you always mean well Kirky. Come here," Lulu said smiling. She kissed him square on the mouth in front of everyone.

When they broke away, Kirk shouted proudly, "That's my girlfriend! Hey, did everyone just see my girlfriend kiss me? She's right here, wave your hand Lulu." Kirk pointed wildly, but no one gave him a second glance. Rosaline could only giggle as she took in the eclectic sights that Finn had obviously gotten used to.

"This is by no means normal America," Sookie said to Rosaline, coming around to collect the plates. "I hope you know that."

"Oh I find this town charming."

"Sure we have plenty of charm, but we got an extra dose of nutty in there too." Rosaline laughed.

At the other end of the table, Logan and Josh were talking business. They couldn't resist. Honor and Rory were talking excitedly about something, probably about Honor's experiences with motherhood thus far, which Rory found fascinating despite her reluctance to enter it at the present.

Emily and Richard were actually enjoying the evening despite themselves. Emily in a much more subdued fashion, but Richard had loosened his tie and was wholeheartedly discussing twentieth century jazz with Morey, touching upon Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman and the like. Richard still had the old vinyl records and played them in his study on occasion. Morey wanted to check them out sometime.

Babette was yammering away about town gossip that horrified Emily more than it entertained her, but she did gauge that the town really was a loony bin of lovable, good-hearted people, and her daughter wasn't totally crazy for having chosen to raise Rory here. It certainly wasn't Hartford, but the intentions were just as good. Babette would go back and forth between Emily and Taylor, who would always offer his opinion on the town drama, and shout across the table to others who were talking about Stars Hollow complaints, always speaking in defense of himself.

Luke and Lorelai were more or less absorbed in their own conversation, jumping in sporadically on some heated discussion surrounding them. Lorelai was just radiantly happy that this night had worked out well and that she was enveloped by an ambiance of good food, good people, and especially her family, however dysfunctional the combination was. Luke felt the same, glad more than anything else to get to spend the evening with Lorelai and bear witness to something that made her so content. He was also pleased that TJ, Liz, Doula, and Jess were there. For a change, his sister and brother-in-law weren't making total fools of themselves. They were actually engaged in some intelligent form of conversation, and Jess was entertaining Doula with a brotherly air uncommon to his personality. Luke looked out on this scene of civility thinking he'd like it to be like this for a long time. He looked at Lorelai, unbeknownst to her for a minute or two.

She laughed at something Rory had said, turned back to Luke and caught him staring. "Everything okay, babe?"

"Yeah, yeah everything's fine. I'm just…thinking," he said, his thoughts entirely on her.

"About what?"

"This. It's just nice. To have everyone here, my family here—"

"Do you miss April?" Lorelai asked, thinking that she technically was his family.

Luke was a bit taken aback. "Oh. Sure. Yeah, I miss her. I mean, I wasn't really thinking about that, but yeah, I guess it would be nice to have her here."

"Next time. For Christmas we'll have her here, if Anna will relinquish her from New Mexico."

"Lorelai, you don't have to—"

"I want to. She's your daughter Luke. I want her to be a part of something like this. If she's your family, then she's mine and all of ours, too."

"Okay. Christmas will be nice." He was so amazed. How could one person exhibit so much compassion for others? He was lucky to have her.

"Then it's a done deal. And you're right. This is nice."

Luke knew the time was right. He couldn't imagine being any happier than he was at that moment, and the key to making this a permanent state of affairs was in a blue velvet box in his pocket. He touched it anxiously, like a superstitious man would a rabbit's foot and then withdrew his hand for fear of drawing undue attention to the contents of his pockets.

* * *

The plates had been cleared and Sookie disappeared into the kitchen to get dessert going, so there was a lull where people milled around, stretched, checked the football game and just talked. Logan got up with Josh to get some air and stopped by Finn's end of the table where he was quietly talking to Rosaline.

"Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds, but I have a secret message for Finn. Will you excuse us for a moment, Rosaline?"

"He's all yours."

Finn got up and followed Logan into the library.

Josh went outside to wait for Logan.

"Colin called before to tell me he was going to be late."

"Ah, I did notice our party was looking a little light. What seems to be his trouble?"

"He's trying to get back with Stephanie tonight."

"Ooh. Scandal. I love it. Well, he has our support, though he should have thought to bring us along."

"That's what I told him. Anyway, he said he'd try to get here later tonight. So, if you and Rosaline want to, get a room in the Inn and you can meet us for breakfast tomorrow when Colin is here. The three of us have some planning to do."

"Sounds good, mate. I'll make the arrangements and you've provided me and my Sheila with some much needed alone time."

"Finn, she's really great. Hold on to her."

"Like Jaws on _The Orca_. Maybe a little less viciously."

"Okay. Don't get too drunk or you risk accidentally taking Miss Patty up to the room instead of Rosaline."

"Drunk? Me? Never!"

Logan patted his shoulder as he returned to Rosaline and went outside where Josh was leaning pensively against the porch railing.

"You okay there, man?" Logan asked, coming to emulate Josh's position on his right.

"Yeah. It's so peaceful out here with the falling snow."

"That's for sure. HPG stressing you out? Are you in want of some solitude?"

Josh laughed. "Nothing I can't handle. It's a well-oiled machine, Logan. I'm glad to be a part of it. I don't know if I ever really thanked you for that."

"Don't worry about it. You're family. You're my nephew's father, you're one of us."

At 'nephew,' Josh gave a weak smile.

"You're not scared are you? About being a dad I mean," Logan continued.

"No, I'm not scared. I'm excited. That is, if I ever get the chance to be one."

Logan gave Josh a confused scowl.

Josh sighed. "Honor wouldn't want me to say anything. But you're her brother and she loves you more than anyone, so I will. Before, when you tried to give her your seat and she was angry…she doesn't like to be considered weak, as I'm sure you know. And obviously, that concept doesn't exactly mesh with pregnancy. But in her case, it's imperative that she let her guard down."

"You know that's literally impossible. We're talking about _Honor_ here."

"She has to, Logan! If she won't listen to me, then maybe she'll listen to you, but she needs to take better care of herself!"

"Calm down. What's the danger here, Smoky Bear?"

"Last year, when you were hospitalized after Costa Rica…needless to say she was a nervous wreck, worried sick. We all were. She had…she had a miscarriage."

"She was…pregnant? She never—"

"You're not supposed to say anything until after the first trimester in case this kind of thing happens. We were okay—we got over it. We were only a month in. But this is so much different. Everyone knows, we're excited, we have a nursery and toys and all that stuff. If…if something were to happen, we'd be devastated. She'd be devastated, and I don't know how I could possibly make her feel better after a second disappointment."

Logan put his hand on Josh's shoulder. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine. But I'll talk to her anyway."

"Thank you. You have no idea what it would mean to me."

"It's all under control. Why don't you go back inside? I'll be in in a minute."

Josh nodded and returned to the warmth of the Inn, electrified with the milieu of laughter and music.

Logan took in the softly falling snow until a car coming up the road and the glint of the headlights on the snow interrupted his train of thought. Intrigued as to who it was, and hoping it was Colin, Logan craned his neck around a column in his line of vision, only to be met with the sight of his mother coming up to the porch.

"Mom!"

"Logan. Surprised to see me, are you?"

"A little. I mean, I know I invited you, but then you didn't show so I figured you found something better to do."

"There is nothing better than getting to see my son and daughter on Thanksgiving."

She finally reached Logan so they embraced.

"So why so fashionably late?"

"I got lost," she said proudly. "I drove myself here using a GPS so that was quite an ordeal."

"Well, dinner ended, we're getting ready for dessert, but I'm sure Sookie has plenty of leftovers. I'll see what I can do about getting you a plate."

"Wait, before we go in…is your father here?"

"Dad? No. Honor and I don't really speak to him. I thought you knew that."

"I wasn't entirely sure. I've been shut away in New York for a while, trying to establish my life, so I haven't exactly been keeping tabs. Do you know what he's doing tonight?"

"No idea. He's in California in the house Rory and I were going to rent if we moved there. He runs the Western branch of my side company and Josh runs HPG. He has minimal involvement, we speak once a month to assess the direction of the company, and that's it. I'm not ready to have more of a relationship with him, not until he can prove he's changed."

Shira nodded, thinking it all over. "Does he know that Honor is pregnant?"

"She called him to tell him, very cold, matter-of-fact. He just said congratulations and she hung up. This whole family drama thing is below her. She doesn't care, and neither do I. We have our own lives now, we don't have to subject ourselves to his whims, so we don't. But let's not talk about him, Mom. I'm just glad you're here. Why don't we get you something to eat and you can meet everyone?"

"This isn't exactly my cup of tea, Logan."

Logan stopped and gave his mother a look that questioned her integrity. "Mom. When you moved to New York, you promised you were going to change; that the choices Rory and I make weren't going to have to pass your impossibly high standards of approval." Shira made to protest, but Logan continued. "I'm trying to make this a normal family for once. Just try and deal for one night. You might surprise yourself. Emily and Richard are in there in case you're in need of some high society."

"Well if it's good enough for Emily…"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say she's ready to move here, but this really is an amazing town. It's a great place to raise a family."

"Is that something you and Rory want?" Shira said with a glint in her eye. Despite it all, a true Huntzberger heir was still very much desired.

"Yes, it's something we want. But not right now. You and Emily can commiserate over that. She's been pestering us all night about it," Logan said, drawing out his words to convey how often he'd been approached on the subject.

"Well, go on and introduce me. I'd like to engage in this little foray into simpler life."

Logan rolled his eyes with a smile, guiding his mother towards the door as he held it open for her.

* * *

Dessert was in full swing, Shira sitting quietly next to Emily who was glad for the Hartford acquaintance after such a chaotic evening. Sookie had made every type of fruit pie known to man, in addition to three kinds of death-by-chocolate cakes and strawberry shortcake. Every type of sweet tooth had been sufficiently sated. Some guests had started to push back from the table and loosen their belts as they made to leave since it was already eleven p.m. Lorelai was standing at the door to thank everyone for coming. She had just closed the door against the winter air after Gypsy and Andrew left, slightly tipsy and arm in arm, which raised some eyebrows but raised no verbalized questions. At least not yet.

"Kirk, Lulu, thank you so much for coming."

"It was a lovely evening Lorelai, thank you for having us," Lulu commented sweetly when she and Kirk approached the front door to head home.

"Lorelai, if I may make a suggestion. Some of the antique objects in your library aren't bolted down," Kirk pointed out.

"I know Kirk, I bought them free standing."

"Well with so many people coming in and out, you really should bolt them down. Wouldn't want someone to walk off with a pewter candlestick, for instance."

Lorelai alighted her gaze on a bulge in Kirk's pocket. "Are you implying that someone may try to _steal_ from The Dragonfly, Kirk?"

"Exactly. I'm happy to get a team of guys in here to do the work for you. Here's my card, we're open twenty-four hours a day."

"Thank you Kirk. I'll think it over. For now, though, I'll start by checking people's pockets before they leave."

Kirk gave Lorelai a guarded look before throwing a ceramic frog on top of the bookcase as he bolted out the door in embarrassment.

"Sorry Lorelai. We watched _Ocean's Eleven_ last night. It won't happen again," Lulu said before running after Kirk.

"Okay, bye," Lorelai said to the empty air. She closed the door but a second later there was a knock on it. While opening the door again, she said, "No, Kirk, you cannot have the frog back. He belongs on the coffee table—Paris."

"Hi Lorelai," she said gushing. Doyle was next to her, his arm around her shoulder with a gaze that could not be detached from Paris's face.

"Paris, hi! We didn't know if you were coming. Um, come in. I'll get Sookie to scrounge up some leftovers if—"

"I'm married!" Paris shouted, cutting off Lorelai.

"You're…what?"

"Married. Doyle and I went to Vegas for the weekend and decided we couldn't wait and didn't want the whole big ceremony so we just took the leap."

"Oh, wow. Congratulations!" Lorelai said, thoroughly floored.

"It was so romantic, wasn't it Doyle?"

"It sure was my darling. It was perfect."

"Aw isn't he sweet?" Paris said, appealing to Lorelai for an opinion.

"Yeah, he's a real catch. You want to come in Paris?"

Paris and Doyle ignored the question, too absorbed in each other to take note.

"I love you," Doyle said as if the world was ending and they'd be separated forever.

"I love you too, Doyle," she replied, their forms illuminated by the snow and moonlight. All of a sudden, Doyle attacked Paris with a ferocious kiss. They started to draw a crowd of leaving patrons on the porch.

"Okay then," Lorelai said. She propped the door open, went outside and pushed the interlocked couple inside and towards the front desk where Michel was playing with his dogs. "Michel, could you get Scarlet and Rhett here a room? Thanks," she said, leaving them to make out in the lobby while Michel got a key, all the while expressing his distaste for their public display of affection with his facial expressions.

"Rory, Paris just got here! I wouldn't interrupt her though."

Rory heard her mother and came into the foyer.

"Paris is here?"

"Yeah, with her lover boy, or should I say husband. They got hitched in Vegas, very _Mona Lisa Smile_, Joan and Tommy-esque."

"Weird, yet it seems to make sense for Doyle and Paris."

"Well, you can get the scoop tomorrow. They're upstairs…canoodling."

"Ew, gross. Don't ever say that again!"

"What? I thought 'that ship had sailed.' Oh no. Did you lie to me? Do we have to have 'the talk?'"

"No, no talk. Get back to your guests, Fez."

Lorelai shut the door as the last of the guests left. Finn and Rosaline had retired upstairs and Emily and Richard had left twenty minutes ago, expressing genuinely that they had a good time, and maybe they'd move some of their Friday night dinners to Stars Hollow. Besides, Richard had to show Morey his vinyl collection, and Emily was sure her biddies would want to see some of Liz's jewelry. Those kinds of one-of-a-kind pieces were very chic right now. Lorelai didn't gloat or say, "I told you so," merely that she'd love to arrange it and bid them goodnight.

* * *

Luke was in the kitchen fixing some loose drawer knobs for Sookie, and Rory and Logan were sitting on the couch with their heads bent together, like there was no one in all of Stars Hollow but them. Lorelai walked slowly around the Inn, commenting now and then to a passing waiter on something she needed fixed. At long last, there was nothing else to be done. Luke came over to Lorelai, who was rearranging some books in the foyer, wearing his jacket. He held Lorelai's up so he could help her put it on.

"Ready to go?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said, satisfied that everything was in order. "Bye Sookie, Luke and I are leaving. Don't forget to lock up!" she yelled into the Inn's interior.

They exited; Luke closed the door behind them and Logan, Rory, Sookie and Jackson who had been waiting for Luke's signal rushed out after them.

Luke and Lorelai traipsed through the falling snow, leaving light tracks in their wake. Lorelai held tight to Luke, in some type of fantasy world as she was enveloped by her favorite time of year and entwined with the love of her life. They walked towards the town square, the other four keeping an unsuspicious distance. Luke sat down on one of the benches and Lorelai sat next to him.

"It's so eerie out in the snow at night. I've never seen anything so beautiful."

"I have," Luke said, letting a fistful of her raven-black curls fall on his shoulder. Lorelai smiled at him and got up, dragging Luke with her playfully. She pulled him into a run until they fell in the snow. She picked up a handful of the white dust. The light, dense powder was perfect snowball consistency. She made a nice round sphere and threw it at Luke.

"Oh I see how it is," he teased. He began to assemble an arsenal of snowballs and throw them at Lorelai as she ran away. He chased her, running with a particularly large snowball in hand. He put his hand in his pocket and took out the velvet box. He buried it in the snowball and caught up with Lorelai who had given up running and was lying on her back in the snow, looking up at the falling flakes. Luke approached her, holding up the weapon between his thick black-gloved hands.

"I surrender! Uncle! Uncle!"

"Oh, you don't get off that easy," Luke teased, falling to his knees next to her, making like he was going to throw it at close range. Lorelai giggled and covered her face, preparing for the icy chips of snow to fall like shrapnel against her face. No such sensation befell her. She unclenched her eyes to see Luke lovingly looking down upon her. "Take it," he said, holding out the ball of snow to Lorelai.

"You got a machine and pointy elf ears hiding under that baseball cap?" she said, sitting up. "That's one good snowball."

"I think so too," he said.

She took the mass of snow between her mittens and cupped it in preparation of throwing it at Luke. Before she could, it melted in her hands. Nothing but a hard mass remained. She opened her palms and looked down at the velvet box that had magically appeared.

Lorelai looked up at Luke. "Luke…what is this?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

He took the box from her and opened its lid, exposing the brilliant ring that lay nestled in its white satin interior. "Lorelai, I have never been so happy in my life as I have been in these last few months we've been together. We've shared so many moments together that have shown me what it's like to have a companion who is really there through the thick and thin of life, and I've liked what I've seen." He caressed her cheek. "Tonight especially, surrounded by all the people that mean everything to us, I felt that I had to make this feeling of absolute bliss last. And I realized that came from you. You're the source of everything good in my life, Lorelai, and I want to have so many more moments together with our friends and family and with a family of our own. What I'm trying to say is…Lorelai Gilmore, will you marry me?"

Were those tears or snowflakes? She couldn't tell, she was so unbelievably happy. Snow, the luckiest omen in the world for her would now be irrevocably tied to the moment she got engaged to Luke Danes, the absolute love of your life.

"Of course I will," she whispered.

Luke's grin spread across the expanse of his face. His frozen fingers deftly removed the ring and returned the box to his pocket. He slid the silver band on her slender white finger. She gasped. It was cold to the touch, but its beauty also stunned her. "How did you—"

"Shh," he said, putting his finger to her lips. "Your father. I'll explain later," he said, replacing his finger with his own lips. She gave in, letting him press against her, deep into the snow, not caring for anything in the world but the satisfaction and utter elation this moment gave her.

"Luke, I love you."

"I love you too, Lorelai. And I want you to know that this engagement isn't going to be like the last. It—"

"Shh. I know Luke, you don't have to convince me of that. I love you and that will never change, so I know that this time, we're both committed to making it work."

Luke, satisfied that they were on the same page, lay back and smiled. They rested on their backs, ensconced in nature's frosty blanket, looking up at the stars.

"It started and ended with the stars, our courtship," Lorelai commented.

Luke shook his head. "It's not ending. It's just beginning."

Lorelai smiled and snuggled closer to her fiancé.

"Geez, it took you long enough," Rory said, coming to stand over them with Logan at her side, Sookie and Jackson just behind them.

Lorelai sat up. "You saw all of that?" she said, surprised.

Rory nodded. "We followed you and then laid low in the gazebo. Logan kind of knew Luke was going to pop the question tonight."

Lorelai looked at her son-in-law who merely shrugged and gave a surreptitious thumbs-up to Luke, who returned it with a smile.

"I'm so happy for you!" Sookie squealed. "The town is gonna die—their own real-life love story finally coming to fruition."

Lorelai hugged Sookie and Jackson and they made their way home. Lorelai turned to her daughter and gave her the biggest hug she could muster in the cold.

The four fell into step on their way home, Rory next to Luke and Logan next to Lorelai. "Good going there, Lucas."

"_Don't_ call me that!"

"Why? You're my step-daddy now, _Lucas_."

"Oh god, here we go."

"I'm just kidding. I'm really happy Luke. Really, really happy for you guys."

"I'm happy too," he said, smiling.

Rory stopped so she could hug him. He had been like a father to her, and he felt some type of paternal bond to her as well. Now it was official.

"So you coerced him into proposing?" Lorelai said to Logan.

"Can't say I did. He came to me for some advice and I told him to do it when you were doing something you love."

"Not bad advice, Huntzberger."

"I try," he said with a grin towards Lorelai.

She looked down at the ring. It was like getting your braces off—how you rub your tongue against your teeth; your mouth in total awe that what had been there for so long isn't anymore. She kept flexing her fingers to look at it, still in shock that she had an _engagement_ ring on her finger. She looked back at Luke and caught him and Rory embracing.

She turned back to Logan. "I hope we'll be as happy as you and Rory are."

He turned his attention from his feet kicking up snow to his mother-in-law, pleased at the unwarranted compliment. Logan too looked back at Rory, her face aglow with excitement. She caught his eye and smiled. He turned to Lorelai. "I have no doubt you will be."

* * *

**A/N: ****If you guys wouldn't mind, if you're submitting a review for the story, I'd like to know what you think about the dialogue specifically in chapters 19 and 20. I want to make sure I'm adequately portraying all the different characters and preserving the nature of their relationships in conversations. Also, any political incorrectness in this chapter is not a reflection on the author's opinions and is merely included for Kirk's character traits.**


	21. The Adventures of Courageous Colin

I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

The sun ricocheted off the ice-glazed snow mounds, the flakes having frozen together in the night. It was unnaturally bright for a December day, or so Rory thought as she opened her eyes from sleep and promptly shut them, the room being filled with an electric blaze of near-white light.

With her eyes swimming with sunspots against the black backdrop of her inner eyelids, she made her way around her bedroom, deftly finding bunny rabbit slippers and a robe to put on before shuffling downstairs to the kitchen. She stopped at the door to wait for Logan who had felt her get up and was slowly following suit, his towheaded hair in a disheveled state.

Still in a food-induced coma and with the exhilaration of last night's events still fresh on their skin, Rory and Logan poured copious amounts of coffee into deep-pocketed mugs and made for the living room to watch the news. Rory went to get the paper, and then came to join Logan who had stopped just short of sitting down on the couch, as he had found some surprising visitors.

Colin and Stephanie lay under a wool blanket, pressed together sardine-tight on the narrow strip of cushioning. Colin stirred, somehow sensing Logan's presence looming over him. He stretched, looked down, realized he was naked and then looked up, first at the impish smirk of one Logan Huntzberger, and then at the slightly more confused yet laugh-suppressing expression on one Rory Gilmore-Huntzberger.

"Oh for the love of god!" Colin exclaimed, pulling the blanket farther up his chest and rolling into a sitting position. "Mom and Dad are here!"

The blanket was being used as makeshift clothing for Colin, revealing Stephanie flat on her stomach, with nothing more than a black tank top and black bikini-cropped underwear on.

Colin tried shaking her awake. She swatted at his hand playfully, her blond strands sticking in a haphazard fashion to her face via static cling.

"What's that for?" he asked her, knowing full well she was barely coherent. "At least you're dressed." Colin turned to Logan. "Sleep well, young chaps? If not, it is hardly on our account. We were as stealthy as Agent 007."

Logan laughed. "More like Agent 99. And even if you were, your other extracurricular activities, the ones that didn't entail climbing through windows, were well broadcast."

Colin shrugged, unabashed, and looked once more at Stephanie, who was making more of a concerted effort to wake up. "My princess, she awakens!" Colin proclaimed, dropping to his knees.

Stephanie sat up, supported by her turned out hands, and shot Colin a dry look while swinging her legs onto the floor. "Don't push your luck, McCrae. This reconciliation is still fresh. I haven't even seen your face in daylight yet." She sniffed the air in both directions. "I need coffee," she moaned.

Rory grabbed her hand and helped her up. "That I can help you with." The two went into the kitchen. Colin felt around on the floor and found his Yale T-shirt and boxers, so he slipped those on under the blanket and was now more appropriately dressed to talk to Logan.

"So, I take it last night went well," Logan said, sitting next to Colin and sipping his coffee. Colin was twiddling his thumbs in his lap.

"I'd say so."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Well I was really hoping to not have to repeat the story twice, since we are meeting up with Finn later—"

"Colin, come on man. You'll sit on my couch, watch my TV, drink my coffee all la-dee-da pretending like we have nothing to talk about? I want particulars. What kind of a wingman would I be if I did not at least have the details, given that I was involuntarily AWOL from the mission?"

Colin sat back against the couch. "Fine," he said exasperatedly. Logan sat forward in eager anticipation. "So when I got off the phone with you, I was standing in the garden, looking through the window to assess the situation inside Stephanie's house. Well, she didn't spot me from across the room as I had hoped she would, nor did she come running into my arms as I had imagined. Romeo was not making out well at all."

"Well just because he looks and talks like a Romeo, it doesn't mean he is one."

"A guy can dream. But obviously I needed another plan. So I wracked my brains for some clever, romantic way to attract her attention, but no such inspirations befell me."

"But you _did_ manage to come up with something, obviously."

Colin nodded his head. "Indeed I did. I traversed back through the bushes and onto the stone pavers, marched right up to the door and knocked on it."

Logan was skeptical. "That was your big romantic plan. You _knocked_ on the door, just…straight up like that?"

"I did. And who should answer but the lovely elder sister. Shocking, I know, as one would assume that in this fairy tale, the princess answers the door, or at least the chamber maid, but alas, it was the sibling, who promptly shut the door in my face."

"How sweet," Logan remarked with a laugh he could barely contain, so he drank it down with the dregs of his coffee.

"Well she tried to, but I was smart. I knew she wouldn't slam the door very hard; it would be un-lady like. So before she had a chance to fully close it, I kicked a small rock through the opening, conveniently one with a string attached which I had pre-fashioned."

"Ah so there was some scheming involved. I feel slightly less embarrassed for you."

"Well I walked away with the loot, did I not? How bad could my scheme have been if it was successful?" Colin said, slightly annoyed.

"You're right, I'm sorry, I'll let you finish."

"Thank you. So when she walked away from the door, I tugged at the string and the rock came right up against the door. With a few good pulls, not only on the string but from the flask I always have handy, I opened the door and ducked quietly into the living room. I was nearly deterred by the smell of apple pie, one of my vices as you well know—"

"Too well, I'm afraid."

"Yes, that bear in the Adirondacks was a nasty one, but he should learn not to mess with other people's food."

"As a people, we've been hunting them for years. They have some right to our property," Logan pointed out.

"Don't use your Yale jargon on me, especially when it concerns apple pie. Luckily the bear was more willing to settle for the cherry pie than I was. We made a fair trade."

"Yeah. He got a nice tranquilizer and you got the baked apples."

"Well Finn, for example, would have taken the tranquilizers over the pie."

"You know, if you wanted some that bad, you _could_ have just come to the Dragonfly like we had arranged and we would have had Sookie reserve you an entire dessert for yourself. But you had other, obviously less adventurous plans."

"If you don't let me finish the story, you won't know for sure, now will you?"

Logan put his hands up in surrender and looked expectantly at Colin.

"Right. So, it really was quite a debate as to whether or not I should wait in the living room or make my way to the bed quarters. I chose the bedroom; it was less conspicuous and well…properly equipped for a successful evening, if you will. So eventually Stephanie made her way into her room."

* * *

"_Wait, wait, Cody, don't do anything stupid until I get back. I want to document it all," Stephanie yelled down the stairs to her soon-to-be brother-in-law. She turned her attention to her cluttered bureau, where she was sure she had left her camera. She wildly shifted objects around, making more of an incomprehensible mess. As she rummaged, a photo album plunked to the floor and several black and white, glossy photos fluttered out. She hastily bent to retrieve them._

"_Allow me," Colin said, coming out of his hiding place from behind the wall of the nook in her bedroom._

"_Jesus Christ Colin, what the fuck are you doing here?" she exclaimed, first in surprise and then anger._

_ "I had to see you," he said softly, gathering the photos into a neat pile. He stole a quick glance at the one on top—a candid of himself and Stephanie; she was locked in his arms and they were laughing at something—probably Finn. He handed them back to her and she ripped them from his fingers tersely, but took care not to bend them when returning them to their rightful place._

_ "Wow, so you sneak into my house on _Thanksgiving_ and then hide in my bedroom. You really have this whole 'win her back' plan all thought out. Though I really shouldn't expect anything more from you with your endless bag of tricks."_

_ "Is that why we ended? Because you disapproved of my particular style of living life? Always with something up my sleeve?"_

_"God, Colin, you just don't get it," she said with amused frustration_, _throwing the camera she found down on her bed and shifting some textbooks to the same location. _

_ "Explain what I 'don't get.' You owe me at least that much."_

_ "I don't owe you anything. And I definitely don't owe you an ounce of my time when my family is here and I should be spending it with the people who love me. Get out of here, I don't want to talk to you."_

_ "When then?"_

_ Stephanie was confused; her heart was beating rapidly, she couldn't think straight, she was struggling to keep her voice even—for what? To keep it from rising in anger, breaking down into tears? Was her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of nervous excitement that Colin was so close she could smell him? Was she merely caught off guard? She had so many questions; she barely knew what to say or how to act—so she thought her best course of action would be to excise Colin from the equation. He was obviously the unbalanced force causing the change in momentum. But did she want to drive him away forever?_

_ "I don't know…just not now. I can't deal with this now." Colin's face fell, though he tried to hide it._

_ "Steph? You coming?" Cody yelled up the stairs._

_ "I'll be right down!" she yelled back quickly so as not to allude to Colin's presence._

_ "But sometime, right?" Colin answered. "I mean, not talking _right now_ implies that sometime in the near future, you would like to have a conversation."_

_ "I don't…I don't know…you know what, no. I can't handle you right now, tonight, or anytime in the foreseeable future, Colin. You hurt me. I told myself not to fall for anymore of your stunts and here I am second-guessing myself. You just come here after not talking to me for months. You had ample opportunities to figure us out and you didn't—"_

_ "As difficult as it is to believe, I can actually explain that. I—"_

_ "No. I don't care what your excuse is. Just leave." She extended her hand toward her bedroom door, but the thought of having to skulk out of the house in front of her family was too much to bear._

_ "If it's all right, I'll see myself out this way." He went over to the window, lifted the sliding pane and lowered himself out of the second story opening. He waited until he heard Stephanie leave her bedroom, and then he continued to hang on to the ledge for dear life. His grip was slipping on Stephanie, but he wasn't about to let go._

* * *

_It must have been eleven o'clock, judging by the fact that Colin had spent roughly two hours hanging outside the window. He had found a relatively sturdy branch to rest his feet on, but didn't trust it with his entire weight. The light in Stephanie's room went on, and Colin could hear car doors slamming to the left, around the front of the house. Stephanie's sister and Cody were gone. Stephanie's head appeared in the window, but she wasn't facing out. After a few seconds, she noticed a slight chill and turned, realizing the window was open. Mildly perplexed, she wrinkled her brow but didn't stop to question it. She reached for the sliding pane and slammed it down. It didn't close all the way—Colin's fingers stopped it._

"_Fuck!" he yelled, so that she could hear him through the glass. _

_Stephanie lifted the pane hastily. "Colin?"_

"_Fuck! I can't move my fingers! I think I'm gonna vomit, holy shit!"_

_Stephanie went into a panic. "Oh my god, oh my god…um…here let me help you inside." _

_Colin raised his right hand limply, and Stephanie grabbed it with both hands and hoisted him into her bedroom. He collapsed on her bed. _

"_Wait here, I'll go get some ice."_

"_It's not like I can do much else," he said through gritted teeth, but she had already fled the room. Even though he was in extreme pain, a smile came to his face. At least Stephanie couldn't kick him out until he was at least capable of driving, and he could make that time period last as long as he wanted._

_Stephanie came back in with a rag wrapped around a Ziploc bag filled with ice. Colin reached for it to put on his hands, but she pulled it away. She took his hand instead and brought it gently to rest on her thigh. She sat next to him and alternately laid the soothing ice pack over his fingers. _

_After a few beats of silence, he said, "You know I could sue you. I'm a lawyer now." _

_Stephanie didn't look up from her methodical icing. "Well considering you were the one who broke an entering and then overstayed his welcome, I'm not sure you'd have much of a case. You finished law school?"_

"_Well I have two years left. But I did sit in the courtroom and pull out evidence for my dad's firm on that huge environmental tort we just won. I'm still not welcome?"_

"_You were on that case? You go to UCLA? How is the west coast? And…no."_

_Colin shook his head. "Okay, we've got to stop this asking and answering."_

_Stephanie sighed. "That was always part of the problem."_

"_What? Our bad communication skills?"_

"_Yes. Not really listening to each other, always being on a different page."_

"_Ah," said Colin, starting to piece together the chaos that had become those last few months. He cocked his head in thought._

"_What?" she said, amused by the puppy-like curiosity in his face._

"_Nothing. It's just funny, us talking like this after all this time. I don't know why but I always pictured a screaming match. I mean, that's how I left you in London so I assumed we'd just pick up where we left off."_

"_Just like that? Right where the rope snapped, you wanted to pick that up and keep walking with it?"_

_Colin smiled. "It was better than letting go completely." _

_Stephanie didn't say anything. She removed the ice because Colin's fingers were now frozen solid but hopefully not in pain. She looked up at him with a wince-like expression crumpling her features. "You pictured it? Us?"_

"_Didn't you? I always thought girls were more idealistic—not to be stereotypical."_

"_Not this girl."_

"_Ouch," he remarked, this time not referring to his blissfully numb digits._

"_What did you expect Colin? We're both so stubborn and strong-willed, but it was never a problem because we both wanted the same things—finish Yale, have some fun, eventually get jobs and settle down—but the minute our goals clashed, we were over."_

"_Do you honestly believe that or is that just something you told yourself by way of an explanation? Because I tried the whole 'making excuses' thing and I found that nothing really did the trick. Short of coming here and getting direct answers, I couldn't think of anything that would put my mind to rest on the issue of our break up."_

"_You sound so…'lawyer-esque' now. I'll bite. Allow me to depose you." _

"_Ooh dirty," Colin smirked, lying back on the bed._

_Stephanie rolled her eyes as she got off the bed to put the icepack in the sink. She came back in and found that Colin was still under the impression that he was going to get lucky. "I'm serious. Let me ask you some questions." _

_He sat up. "Do I get to pick the category?"_

"_Sure."_

"_Hmmm. Let's try 'London' for $1000."_

"_Oh we're playing fast and hard. Okay. London…" Stephanie mused, rolling that rock around her mouth, trying to discern its shape and properties, trying to determine which tool was best to crack that particular nut. "Why? What was it about London that forced you to leave?"_

_Colin took a deep breath. "It wasn't the city."_

"_What then? The house, the food? It seems stupid to ask but I don't know what else it could have been. Colin, god how do I even put this…it felt like I was taking this giant leap and because I was scared you promised to hold my hand. But when I finally jumped and hit the water, I looked up only to realize that you let go. You were standing on the dock and I was sinking into this uncharted abyss. And then you walked away. Why?"_

"_I was scared."_

_Stephanie laughed. "You're Courageous Colin. A terrible alliterative nickname I know, but nonetheless it's yours. Scared of what?"_

"_Everything was changing. You were changing. You came to me one day, all in a rush and told me about all these wonderful experiences you had had and how they inspired you to uproot the course of your life. I was genuinely happy for you, but it hit me that all the plans we had made were moot then. I thought that by following you to London I could put those plans aside and just go with it, but after a month I was making too many sacrifices and I wasn't happy."_

"_You weren't happy with me?"_

"_No. You have to believe me when I tell you that it had nothing to do with you." He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. "I wish the timing could have been better so as to convince you of that fact. I hated myself for leaving because I knew it would seem that I didn't love you anymore, but that love was the only thing that kept me there as long as I stayed."_

"_And here I was thinking I was in love with an impulsive guy. What happened to that sense of adventure? That's what took me to London, you know. I thought you'd be all over that."_

"_I did too. I thought it would all just fall into place once I got there, but it didn't. That's the part that drove me away, that scared me away. I was yearning for the life I had complained about—that structured, corporate lifestyle I rebelled against and the fact that being away from it made me miss it scared the hell out of me. The pull was too great. I had to go back, even if that meant succumbing to my dad's wishes."_

"_You must have been in a pretty bad way if you were willing to do that."_

"_I was!" Colin said with exasperation, rising to his feet and gently taking Stephanie's hand in his, unable to squeeze it to convey his emotion for fear of crushing his own fragile fingers. But just holding her was enough. He'd been deprived of her touch for so long, his skin and nerves drank in the electricity she emitted like a drop of water in a desert, healing the parched earth._

_ "But I also think you're delusional. You weren't running back to the life you rebelled against, or I couldn't possibly like you. You were running back to that place you perceived as safe—where you and I were predictable and sturdy—away from London that to you represented some massive black hole of incomprehensibility. Of course our relationship suffered for it—it wouldn't have been healthy had it not. We both made some radical changes, expecting our relationship to bend with them and we didn't even bother to question it. You sensed that and tried to realign it, but I stayed in London and you didn't."_

_ Colin was relieved. He hadn't thought of it like that, but he had to admit her explanation made a hell of a lot more sense. "You learn that in some fancy Oxford psychology class?" _

_ "Well you know, I need Psych 101 for my education major."_

_ "You think too much of me."_

_ "You think too little of yourself. You were perfect Colin. I was honestly surprised when you were all gung-ho about moving with me to London. I asked you to leave everything behind, almost as a test and you passed. I was expecting the exodus. I even think it was good for us. Now we can just move forward, on the _same_ page."_

_ His eyes had been closed, inhaling everything she was saying…god just the melody of her voice made him melt. He could sit there and listen to her read Grey's Anatomy and it would sound like poetry to him. Her last words hit his ear later than they should have for all his reveling. "What? We're…we're back on track?"_

_ "We were always on track. We just stopped the train for a little while."_

_ "You have no idea how much I love you," he said, ending it with a kiss._

_ Stephanie broke away after a few breathless moments. "Oh I think I do. I have ten mangled fingers to prove it." He kissed her again, but she pulled away shortly. "Law school?"_

_ Colin smiled. "Psychology?"_

_ "Okay, we obviously have a lot of catching up to do. Do you want to go get coffee?"_

_ Colin checked his watch. "I actually promised Logan I'd drop by for the evening. Rory's town had this big Thanksgiving blow out and Finn is there and a few other friends so I thought maybe we could go together and catch up on the way? It'll be good to see everyone again, _together_, don't you think?"_

_ "Sounds good, McCrae. Let's go." She grabbed her coat and handbag on the way out of the bedroom. Colin followed suit, coming up next to her and turning off the light as his arm found its rightful place cradling the small of her back. It felt like he had never left._


	22. Schemes and Dreams

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

**A/N: A quick update...coming to the end of the semester so starting to get some more free time to write, and hopefully there will be lots more updates over winter break! Happy reading, and please review! Reviews hold me over and let me know my readers are still out there enjoying!**

* * *

Steph, Colin, Rory, and Logan braved the frigid Connecticut air to rendezvous with some of their friends from Yale at Luke's. Lorelai and Luke decided to sleep in, no doubt sleeping off last night's excitement, so Cesar greeted the four as they entered the diner. Two minutes later, Rory spotted Paris and Doyle and Finn and Rosaline crossing the town square to get to the diner. Finn was clad in a bathrobe, which drew a few looks, though it was Stars Hollow after all, so what was one more weirdo in a crowd of a thousand?

"Comfortable?" Rory asked when Finn sat down at the table. Logan was suppressing a laugh and Colin and Steph were hardly fazed—at least not as fazed as visibly as Paris and Doyle, who were trying to stave off the red creeping up their cheeks as they were obviously sitting at the oddball table in a loony bin. Now that was saying something.

"Quite," said Finn triumphantly, without a care in the world.

"I tried to convince him to take it off," said Rosaline with a laugh. However she, too, had gotten used to her boyfriend's oddities. "Or at least to put a warmer coat on over it, but naturally he refused."

"Rory dear," said Finn absentmindedly as he fingered the cloth of the object in question, "Where _does_ your mother get these fabulous robes? I've stayed in many a hotel, mind you, my father is a famous hotelier, and I've yet to see a finer garment."

"I don't know Finn, I'll have to ask her." Finn was hardly listening as he muttered something to himself regarding the navy trim around the collar of the plush, white robe.

"Where did you meet him? On the set of _The Queer Eye_?" inquired Logan of Rosaline.

"Hardly. I met him Scuba diving. Needless to say, he was far more interested in the women on the beach, namely me, than the prospect of deep-sea diving with Great Whites and ship wrecks."

"Curious specimen," said Colin jokingly of his friend. "You're sure he didn't come up with the catch of a boat that was trolling the sea bottom?"

"I'm relatively certain. Though he looked like something out of the ocean when he showed up rain-sodden on my doorstep the next day."

"Sounds more like him," remarked Colin. "Was he holding flowers?"

"He was, actually."

"Consider yourself lucky," Logan commented. "It's rare when he falls for someone who he thinks deserves flowers."

"He should consider himself lucky. It's rare when I save a poor soul the embarrassment of having to ask me out before he makes a meager attempt."

"I like her," said Colin to Finn.

"For once, I can say we agree on something."

The banter continued on in this manner, the eight of them catching up on where life had taken them as of late and after their days at Yale.

When the burgers, fries, and shakes had been reduced to mere remnants, Finn pushed back from the table and propped his feet up on it's surface. "So I do believe us lot have a bit of business to discuss, do we not?" he posed.

"My friend here is correct. The matter has been looming over every other mundane subject we've entertained. How can our various reconciliations and news of successes overshadow the importance of this impeding dialogue?" was Colin's rather regal reply.

"Before you two get any more excited, bear in mind that we are not at liberty to discuss with such freedom, as there are members of the present party who are not permitted to be made aware of our going-ons," warned Logan.

Finn surveyed each face at the table. "Logan, everyone here is, if not a full-fledged member of our sacred club, at least an honorary one."

Logan cast a sideways glance at Rosaline, Doyle, and Paris. Colin, who was sitting closest to Logan, leaned over and whispered in his ear, "We had to quickly initiate Doyle just before your bachelor party, or he wouldn't have been allowed to take you hostage. Paris, now being his wife, is an honorary member and she knows more than the average citizen, having read the article Rory put out in the _Yale Daily News_."

"And Rosaline?"

"She's with Finn."

"Colin, you know that's not criteria for membership. One has to have a significant amount of inheritance and have a tie to Yale, be married to a member, or be properly initiated."

"I know, but she really is quite the adventurous soul and therefore in _spirit_ shares the LDB's values and mission. And her and Finn are practically married—at least by his standards anyway."

"Fine," Logan huffed. "But she's undergoing a proper initiation like Rory did at this event."

"Say no more, consider it done."

"Good," Logan said, less than pleased but resigned nonetheless. Logan and Colin's heads separated and silence consumed the table as they all waited for the cryptic messages to be further elucidated.

Paris, elated by her inclusion, said, "Ooh an inside meeting. I feel like Jimmy Hoffa dining with his associates before he pulls off another job."

Doyle lightly touched her arm. "It's best if you don't speak just yet. Our attendance here is subversive at best, dear." Paris visibly sunk down in her chair. The three leading men brushed off the interruption as though it were merely a warning and not a speeding ticket.

"So what's it going to be boys?" started Logan. "Since we no longer attend Yale, these LDB events are going to be hard to populate. Most alumni chapters have been shut down for lack of creativity, funds, and general attendance."

"Logan, you underestimate us," said Finn. "We still have quite a loyal following. Besides, Colin and I have done most of the preliminary research and therefore should have no trouble pulling this off."

"What off?" said Rory, always the cautious skeptic.

Colin smirked. He had been waiting for someone to take the bait. "Well I'm glad you asked Reporter Girl. You see, Logan's bachelor party had a nautical theme, but I must say it was rather tame for our tastes. It didn't faze the man of honor here—he was just glad nobody drowned. But the theme was meant as a precursor to the much larger event that Finn and I have been cooking up for years. The three of us debated using it in lieu of our Costa Rica trip, but given its complexity, we wouldn't have been able to pull it off. However, we think we're finally ready."

"This sounds dangerous," said Paris with a slight waver in her voice.

Finn laughed heartily. "Of course it's going to be dangerous…what kind of Life and Death Brigade would we be if the stunts weren't?"

"Finn's right, it is dangerous, but if we do it right, we can retire our chapter with honor. Really, an alumni chapter gets one chance for a really big stunt and then it's considered an archived, inactive chapter. If we're lucky every few years we'll get another shot, but if nothing happens within the first year after leaving school, we're done for," said Logan.

"Right," affirmed Colin. "So what have we got to lose?"

"Our lives," muttered Doyle.

"You don't _have_ to be included Doyle. We did it out of courtesy for your help with Logan's bachelor soirée," said Finn, annoyed.

Paris touched her husband's arm and put some pressure on it. "Doyle," she said sternly. "A word please." She pushed on his arm to the point of breaking and got him to follow her descent under the table.

"Paris, you're hurting me," he whined. He surveyed his surroundings. "Huh. Luke keeps his establishment surprisingly clean. There's no gum under here. And for someone who was embarrassed to be seen with a man wearing a bathrobe, you've picked an interesting spot to have this impending conversation. Actually, you probably feel right at home here. It's slightly reminiscent of the cave you constructed in the news room at Yale—"

"Doyle, focus. Stop with the peanut-gallery comments up there. This is the first and probably last time you and I will get a chance to really be included in something related to our alma mater. Just go with it. This is one of Yale's most secret and prestigious clubs and we have a front row seat at the planning of the operations. So sit down, shut up, and stay quiet, because I want to be able to tell our children that we were 'hip' enough to be included in this."

"But the only reason—" Doyle started, but his voice was muffled by Paris' hand being clamped over his mouth. She pulled him back up to their seats.

"Sorry about that," she said with a nervous laugh.

"No worries mates," Finn said. "We were just discussing logistics."

Rory and Rosaline, having learned to just roll with the punches when the boys were together, were merely soaking it all in, thoroughly enthralled.

"Well clearly the best time to go would be late April," said Colin.

"Go where?" said Paris.

Colin, Finn, and Logan ceased all conversation and stared her down. "What was that ungodly disturbance?" Finn turned his head toward Logan. "Logan, did you hear something?"

"I believe I detected the slightest hint of a voice in the air."

"Funny, I may have heard the same thing. Well, never mind, let's carry on," Colin added.

Rosaline leaned in to Paris. "The location is never revealed," she stated, never taking her eyes off of the boys' little act.

"How do you know so much about all this?" Paris asked uneasily.

"Finn filled me in before we came."

"How lucky for you," she said sourly, and then sat back.

"Yes—late April, I think. We should be able to avoid the rainy season and ensure mildly moderate weather. It'll still be a bit cold, but nothing we can't handle, properly equipped," said Logan, his head cocked upward in thought.

"Ah good we've gotten to my end of it," said Colin. Customarily, Finn provided the insane ideas and the guest list, Logan the food and transaction of funds, and Colin the equipment and set-up crew. "I found a new adventure gear start-up while I was in California so I agreed to give them some business in exchange for hiring my father's firm. Besides, we can't use our old company for the climbing apparatus' given the…malfunctions."

Rory narrowed her eyes at Colin, but he had wisely averted his own. He and Finn would not soon forget the reaming they had received for their cavalier behavior when Logan was in the hospital, although there was a good explanation for it. Logan glanced at his wife and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He wouldn't be so stupid twice in his life, and now Rory would be there to prevent him from doing just that.

"We'll need private plane transportation and camp site provisions for the drop off. Not to mention the water gear," added Finn as the idea took full shape in his head.

"I could help with that," Rosaline said to Colin. "My granddad's got loads of diving gear, if that's what you need, or suppliers for other aquatic necessities."

"It'd be great if I could get his number. I'd use you as a liaison, but then you'd be privy to far too much detail, and you're technically not an LDB member. Finn, that's another thing we have to consider—Rosaline's initiation."

"My what?" she said. Her accent gave her tone of curiosity an air of bemused surprise that suited her feelings about something so shrouded in mystery.

"Initiation, love. Every new member of the LDB has to go through it. I can't tell you what it will entail, of course, but I'm sure you'll pass with flying colors."

"All right, I'll play along. But if you're playing hard to get, I will too. Colin, you have to come spend a week in Australia if you want my granddad's supplier information. Finn's missed you all terribly and it might be fun to have you as our guest for a bit. I'm sure he can fill you in on the details, but you must come and visit he and I at work."

Colin smiled cheekily at Finn and then Logan, lingering on his blonde-haired companion. Logan's skepticism about Rosaline's relation to the LDB was quickly wearing off. "Fine with me. I'll be in touch with Finn and I'll be on a plane before the end of the month."

"Excellent. Maybe this will get Finn out of the little funk he's been in recently."

"Aw. Finny's been in a 'wittle funk,'" Logan mocked.

"Now stop it!" yelled Finn. "There's no shame in missing your friends sorely."

"Don't worry. I'll come cheer you up. Mate," said Colin emphasizing his use of the new lingo he'd have to get used to.

"Well I think we've got most of the basics covered. Finn, Colin, we'll chat later in the week. I'm ready to do the water theme right."

"Agreed," said the other two Musketeers in unison.

"That was hardly enlightening," Paris said to Rory who laughed and relished what Paris's reaction would be to the actual LDB events that were to come.


	23. Maybe It's Philadelphia

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

Paris and Doyle left the diner first. They were driving to Doyle's parents for the rest of the weekend and Paris' parents were meeting them there so they could share their big news with everyone. Finn had promised a sightseeing tour of New York City to Rosaline and so they took a private car down towards Manhattan. Rosaline was all for roughing it on foot once in the city, but there was no way she was trusting Finn to drive there. Colin and Steph took off for Hartford. They had a lot of catching up to do and things to discuss—things that couldn't be resolved by sleeping together on Logan's couch.

Rory and Logan saw everyone off with a smile and then donned their winter gear for braving the Connecticut landscape once more. Logan took Rory's hand in his own black leather-clad fingers and they walked in silence towards the town square, watching kids throwing snowballs, making snowmen and snow angels. They sat together on a wrought iron bench covered in snow. Rory shivered and Logan drew her closer to him, pressing her head to his opposite shoulder so he could cradle her and keep her warm.

"You okay?" she asked him. She had sensed that something was bothering him by the way he held her—as if he was afraid to let go.

"Yeah," he replied noncommittally, staring out at the landscape with a sense of yearning.

Rory rolled her eyes. "Logan," she warned with her tone.

He took a deep breath. "No. There's just a lot going on with me right now."

"So talk," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. He stayed silent, just holding her, absorbing her body heat, feeling her body with each breath and heartbeat with an acute intimacy. "Is it Finn?" she prompted finally.

"Part of it. I mean…did you see that coming? He just dropped that on us. He's _moving_ to _Australia_. That's the other side of the world. I just…it's so hard to fathom that we're all growing apart."

"It's only in distance, Logan. You and Finn and Colin will be best friends until the day you die. And even then, I'm sure it will be because of some stupid stunt the three of you decided to pull, even when you're eighty."

Logan allowed a laugh to escape him. "It's just weird, you know. He seems _serious_ about Rosaline. We're all growing up."

"Yeah we are. I don't know though. There was always some majestic appeal to being an adult. This right here…this is life at it's most perfect apex, don't you think?" Rory asked him with a hint of juvenile innocence tingeing her words.

Logan kissed her hair softly. "I couldn't imagine it any better."

"Something is still bothering you," Rory said in a sing-song voice.

"Josh and I had a heart-to-heart last night."

Rory sat up in alarm. "Is there something wrong with the company? Did your dad do something stupid again? I swear to god I'm going to kill him. He—"

"Rory, no, hold your horses. It has nothing to do with HPG or my dad. It's Honor."

"Is she okay? Logan you're scaring me."

"She's okay now. She really didn't want me to know this, so of course you're sworn to secrecy. Even Josh had a tough time telling me, but he didn't know who else to turn to. You remember when I was hospitalized after the Costa Rica trip?"

"How could I forget?" she said wryly.

"Yeah, well so was Honor. About three days after I was released. She had a miscarriage."

Rory's eyes went wide and her lips parted in shock. "But she and Josh had just gotten…"

Logan nodded in understanding. "I know. Obviously that's not why they got married. He proposed before they found out. But you know what the news would have sounded like to the Huntzbergers so they kept it under wraps. All the stress she was under from dealing with my injuries just wasn't good for her. And now she's at a higher risk for a repeat. But according to Josh, she refuses to take any precautions that would be considered out of the ordinary. She gets testy when anyone tries to help her. You know how she hates feeling like an invalid. Josh wants me to talk to her and I've just been worrying about it, but I wanted to spend the day with you—"

Rory put her finger to Logan's lips. "Go. Go take care of your sister. I'll be fine. I'm gonna go hash out some wedding details with my mom."

"You're wasting no time," he said with a smile.

"Hell yeah. They are getting to the altar this time."

"I have no doubts about that. Your mom was so happy last night. It was nice to see her like that."

Rory smiled. "Can I run something by you?"

"Of course," said Logan. "Shoot."

"I was thinking I might go see Jess."

Logan turned away and rubbed the tension from his neck. He was momentarily frustrated. He felt guilty about leaving Rory on their time off together and she was trying to make him feel better by going to see her ex-boyfriend? "Why Rory? I know I said I'd be civil but that doesn't mean I'm gonna be happy about it and sanction play dates."

She narrowed her eyes at the dig. "Logan, we're like cousins now. He came all the way here from Philadelphia, and we were friends before and after the break up. Besides, we discussed this. I married _you_. I'm not really sure why he came back to Stars Hollow for Thanksgiving and I feel like he could use a friend right now. You go hang out with Honor, I'll pay Jess a visit and we'll catch up later for dinner?" For extra measure, she pulled out the puppy dog eyes and lip.

Logan broke into a smile. "Okay Fido. Fine, go see Jess. I love you, but I just don't trust him, that's all."

"I know and I don't expect you to be all gung-ho about it, but technically we're all related now. There's probably going to be a lot more holidays with him. He and Luke have a special bond and I think if I don't set our relationship right, it's going to be a lot harder in the future. Besides, last night, we had a chat on the porch and he said he's gonna make an effort with you."

"Yeah, that'll be the day," said Logan, scoffing with disbelief.

"He promised me he'd try, and he has never gone back on his word."

"Okay, whatever you say. I'm not in the mood to talk about Jess right now. I'll probably be back from Honor's at six and then we can go out. Casual, formal, whatever you feel like. I love you."

"Love you too," she said, kissing him. They parted ways, Logan towards their home to get their car and Rory towards Liz and TJ's house where Jess was staying.

* * *

Rory ascended the heavily buried front steps at Liz and TJ's house, a place she had been only a few times before when Liz insisted Luke have his whole family over for dinner. The Gilmores never seemed to make it, but Rory had enjoyed herself well enough, despite their eccentricities and her relative certainty that Doula was going to have some issues when she grew up.

When she rang the bell, she prayed that Liz and TJ weren't home. She felt the impending conversation was best done indoors and out of earshot of anybody else who could get the wrong idea.

Jess answered the door.

"Hey cuz," Rory said, smiling in spite of herself.

Jess was momentarily taken aback. The last person he had expected to see was Rory, but he hid it well behind his perpetually stony eyes. "Rory…what are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to talk. We didn't really get the chance last night."

"Could that have anything to do with your husband who has an intense dislike for me? Where is he, by the way? I figured he'd have you wait in the car while he rang the bell, you know in case things got really out of hand."

Rory crossed her arms and sighed. "Logan's not here, and in fact is completely okay with my being here. Now, can I come in, or are you going to just let me stand in the cold while you continue to insult me? Because if so, I can leave."

Jess stepped back from the door and extended his arm inwards. "By all means…"

Jess led her inside to the guest bedroom where he had taken up residence. He sat down at his desk, the surface of which was covered in pages of, what was presumably, his writing. Rory opted for the bed. She noted that his stuff was already packed. "Leaving so soon?"

"I gotta get back to Philly. I do have a business to run."

"Right. How's that going?" It was small talk, she knew, but she wasn't entirely sure what she had come there to say.

"It's great. I like the work, and the people, and I have a lot of time to devote to my writing."

"You're publishing another book?" she asked, genuinely proud and a little jealous that his writing career was taking off.

"When it's done. It's in its rough stages," he said with a gesture towards the no man's land of papers strewn about.

"What's it about?" Rory asked cutely.

"Not a chance," Jess said with an impish grin. "Did you come here just to ask me questions or is there something you really wanted to talk about?"

Rory was a little offended. "I don't know, Jess. You just show up after all this time, you're acting civil, you voluntarily came to see your mom and Luke. And yet you don't seem happy, although your life seems to be turning out far better than I think anyone or even you expected it to. I just thought you could use someone to talk to."

Jess shrugged and displayed his palms as a sign of indifference. "And there's no possible way you missed me, not even a tiny little bit, and just wanted to see me again?"

Rory waited a minute before responding. She suddenly felt ill at ease. Maybe Logan was right and going to see Jess was a big mistake. If he was still interested in her, then she had to get out quick. This meeting was completely platonic, an olive branch, something to make peace with their new arrangement and increased involvement in each other's lives. "No, Jess. I miss you like I would a brother who lives far away. But not in any other sense. I hope that's not why you came back to Stars Hollow, because if it is—"

"God, why does everybody keep asking me that? It's like this whole fucking town thinks it's impossible to get over you. I know what I lost when I lost you. It's something I'll always regret—all first loves are that way, at least that's the stuff of novels. But I _have_ moved on. And I _am_ happy. I've just never been one for emotion."

Rory breathed an internal sigh of relief. "That's so good to hear, Jess."

He looked away. "Actually, I'm seeing someone. And in a way, coming back here and seeing you with Logan solidified for me that I _am_ over you, and completely in love with her."

Rory was floored. "In love with her? Wow, that's a big word for you."

Jess smiled. "I mean, we've only been together a little while, but I think I love her."

Their chat had reverted to friendly conversation, the kind between siblings. And this is exactly where Rory had wanted to steer things before Jess left. "Well I am very happy that you're happy. I hope I get to meet her some day." Rory faltered a moment, wanting to continue, but not knowing how. Jess watched her carefully, not wanting to stifle anything she felt she had to say. He had time, and the inclination to put all her curiosities to rest. She was right; talking like they used to was healing.

"If you still have something on your mind, I'd like to hear it, whatever it is," he said by way of incitement.

Rory pressed on, despite reservations. "It's just that, it's easy to _say_ you're happy. Lots of people do, it's the same with the word 'fine.' Happy, fine…they both sound like complacent conveniences meant to end irritating inquiries rather than actual states of contentment. And I get the feeling that's what you're doing to me. I mean, you _say_ you're happy, and yet you come back here, a place you claimed to hate, a hick town. It wasn't to impress anybody, that's for sure. It wasn't for me. Okay, it was to see Liz and Luke, maybe, but I can tell there's something else, too. There's an unfamiliar mirth in your eyes. Maybe it's Philadelphia. But I think you're wistful for this place. Stars Hollow did you some good, after all, in spite of yourself."

Jess looked away, his previously at-ease expression suddenly hooded. "I'm not wistful."

Rory smiled an all-knowing grin that quickly spread to Jess's own lips in the beat of silence between them. "You're wistful."

"God, that wit." Jess rolled his eyes, bit his lip, surveyed the ceiling. "I've missed it, Rory. I've missed you."

Rory looked sober for moment. Logan had warned her. Her exes realized what they had lost, and would always be trying to recover it—her. Yet he had admitted this. And yet it didn't seem that the admission dissolved the feelings, rather heightened them. Despite what he said about another woman, she would always be buried somewhere in his heart. Wasn't he in hers?

"You've always had me, Jess."

He shook his head, his fingers splayed out on the seat of his chair. "Not in the way I wanted."

"That wasn't my fault," she said pointedly, but then thought better of her accusatory tone. "You could have…maybe if we had been older, more mature. The both of us." She shrugged the unfinished musings away into the air.

"No, that wasn't it. It was me, my stupidity, my…dissatisfaction with life. _My _immaturity."

"I appreciate that. But you've always been too hard on yourself. And maybe that's a product of your upbringing, someone always blaming you for things that couldn't be helped. Give yourself some more credit sometimes. You deserve it more than you know."

His eyes were as deep and boring as ever, drinking up her presence in the grayish-white light of winter streaming in through the window. The sight of her, her voice, her words had always been such a comfort to him, such a reassurance. "Believe me, I do give myself credit. I owe that to you."

"I know," she cut in. "You told me as much when you came to visit me at my grandparents' house. When you came to show me your book."

"But what I didn't tell you was how I felt you were always my one and only cheerleader. Having someone root for me was a pretty foreign feeling, but it's one you _made_ me feel. That sense of empowerment that you instilled, I held on to that, if nothing else but my affection for you. Thank God for that. But now, I guess you have someone else to root for."

"He's a good guy, Jess. And I will always be rooting for you. Logan—"

"I know, I know. I didn't mean it like that. Only that he's lucky, that's all. And I know he knows it, otherwise you wouldn't be with him. I'm happy you finally found someone who will take care of you in the way that you deserve."

Rory nodded, accepting the admission for all it resolved between them. "So I guess you should be heading back to Philly."

"I guess I should. I'll see you around. Cuz."

She smiled, glad for the conversation, relieved that this, whatever "this" had been, was no longer hanging over her head.

Rory grabbed her bag and coat and left Jess in his bedroom, traversed the littered living room and closed the front door softly. She left any animosity between them at the doorstep, trailing after her in the snow. Soon it would all be melted away, a forgotten remembrance only to be called up in the summer, when one longs for the sting of snowflakes to replace the scorching sun. She could handle an occasional reminder, a yearly pang that would only dull, but never completely dissipate. Never completely.

* * *

Isn't the perfect little clapboard house with the perfectly manicured garden and white picket fence a cliché? That unimpeachable picture that does not depict happiness but whose cultural image connotes it? This is the thought Logan had as he walked up the front path of his sister's Hartford home. Everything on the outside was coated in sugar while the inside was rotting in decay.

When he rang the bell, Josh answered the door. Did he look more tired, more haggard, perhaps a bit more disheveled since the last time they spoke? There was a quiet sleepiness that emanated from the home's interior, as if minutes before everything had been ensconced in a warm blanket, absorbing its own body heat, only to be jarred from rest by Logan's arrival.

"Hey Logan, how's it going?" Josh said quietly. "Honor's taking a nap, but you can wait for her in the living room. I assume you're here because of our conversation last night?"

Logan nodded affirmatively, entering the house cautiously, with the distinct feeling he had disrupted a sacred moment meant for only two people.

"Can I get you anything?" Josh asked, shuffling around his home as if he were tired of the routine. "You're a scotch man, right?"

Logan checked his watch. Too early for alcohol. Besides, thickening his nerves with drink was something he reserved for the elder Huntzbergers. His sister he could handle sober. "No thanks, I'm good." Logan surveyed Josh. "You look like you could use one, though."

Josh didn't think long before coating the bottom of a highball with the amber liquid and sipping it down.

The two sat without speaking, unsure of what there really was to say. They both knew the situation and neither had a clear idea as to how to fix it. Plus, outside of business affairs, which no one was in the mood to discuss, Logan and Josh had very little in common—besides Honor, and in that department, Logan was just glad Honor had found someone she loved and that loved her back. That was all that really mattered.

To save them both from the awkwardness of the whole situation, or perhaps merely having been roused from sleep, Honor came padding into the living room in slippers and a nightgown. Ordinarily, her appearance would have been a bigger ordeal, but her pregnancy had caused her to care much less than usual, and it was just Logan after all.

"I thought I heard my baby brother. To what do I owe this rare, rare visit?"

"I visit!" he said, too dramatically to be true.

"Yeah, when you're hiding out from Dad-on-a-warpath." She grew pensive for a moment. "And now that that's all taken care of, I hardly ever see you. Except last night, of course."

Logan was sheepish. "Well, I'm here now."

Honor took the glass of seltzer Josh handed her. She crossed her legs, folded her arms, tightened her body as much as possible in that somehow-elegant, all-knowing pose. "So, what lecture am I in for _this_ time? You know for a baby brother, you sure act like an older one."

"Role reversal; one of the many screwed up abnormalities inflicted upon us by our wonderful upbringing," he quipped.

Honor dipped her head and arched an eyebrow in consent as she sipped at her lime-infused drink through a cocktail straw.

Logan continued. "No lecture. Just in the mood for some friendly conversation."

"And you couldn't get that from anyone but me? Besides, are there such things?"

"Come on, between us? Sure there are." His tone was discolored, she could tell.

"Well then. Shoot."

Logan sighed, sat back, composed his thoughts. He took a moment to arrange himself in an equally as artful repose. "How are you feeling?"

She smiled, her suspicions confirmed. "Fine."

"And my nephew?"

"He's fine too."

A match of concern lit the darkened glint in his eye. "Just fine?"

Honor put her drink down, allowing it to sweat a translucent ring onto the glass coffee table. She opened her lips and closed them twice before speaking, unwilling to play into the intertwined hands of her husband and brother.

"Let me take a stab at the reason for your visit. I don't know when, but sometime recently, Josh here revealed to you that I had a miscarriage coinciding with your stint in the hospital, and that due to my lack of compliance with 'doctor's orders,' he appealed to you to see if you couldn't talk some sense into me. Am I right?"

Logan stole a glance at Josh, whose head was bowed. He looked back to Honor uneasily. "You're right. But what's wrong with taking a few extra precautions? Just don't go skydiving anytime soon, it's not like I'm asking you to wear shin guards and a helmet everywhere you go. Just let other people help you out a little."

"No," she said matter-of-factly.

"Why not!?" Logan said, rising in his exasperation. "Are we both so screwed up from lack of childhood affection that we can't recognize or accept genuine concern when it comes along?"

"Because there are enough women in the world who just sat around being doted on. I don't need to be added to the roster."

"Oh my god, do _not_ play the feminist card."

"Let's all just settle down," Josh cut in, to no avail.

"I'm not playing the feminist card, Logan! Look around you! I live in here in Hartford, but I refuse to become one of _them_. I won't keep an exorbitant house or go to parties with vapid women who've no sense of purpose. I won't spend my days playing tennis at the club or planning cocktail parties that are merely fronts for women to drink the pain of their exceedingly boring lives away. So I most certainly won't sit around receiving extra attention and feeling like an imbecile when I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"When else are you going to have the opportunity to be doted on relentlessly? Enjoy it. At least—"

"I won't become Mom!"

Logan's mouth went numb, unable to form a further retort. Josh had been trying to keep Honor calm, but she loomed over the coffee table more formidably than Logan did, so he resumed sitting on the couch, defeated.

"I won't become our mother," she said, more softly, sinking slowly back down to the cushions and settling under her husband's protective arm. "She did those things. She had that life. She depended entirely on other people, and look where that got her."

"Honor," Logan said in a deep, gentle tone, overcome with emotion at what she must have been feeling. "This is completely different."

"I know," she snapped. "I know it's irrational. That's just how I feel, I can't help it."

"I know," Logan said, nodding in understanding as he sat back against the couch, the tension of the moment leaving his body.

Of course he knew. He knew perhaps more intimately than anybody else what it felt like to be filled with such rage and self-loathing. Anger and fear and disgust at the thought that he was turning into a carbon copy of his father. Such anguish drove him to self-destruction, which led to admonishment from the root of the problem, which only led to more self-destruction. It was a vicious cycle, and one that Honor couldn't be caught up in. Not now.

"Believe me, I know," Logan added, reflecting on his thoughts.

"I know you do." Tears pricked at Honor's throat and glands and eyelids and finally slid down unceremoniously, being paid no attention by way of stopping them. "Fuck. I'm sorry I'm so damn emotional.

"It's okay," Logan said, and Josh mumbled his agreement, caressing her back in reassurance. "Just promise us you'll try. You're not going to turn into Mom. That's impossible. You've done fairly well at establishing yourself as your own person thus far."

Josh scoffed, knowing all too well of his wife's strong personality traits.

"I will," she replied, disinclined to say more at the moment.

Logan shook Josh's hand and gave his sister a big hug and kiss. "Go get some rest," he whispered in her ear.

Logan left the house to do the same, to find some solace and comfort in his own home, his own sacred space where things were shared privately between the people that he loved. Especially Rory. And especially Honor.

* * *

**A/N: Soooo what did you all think of the Jess scene? A lot of this story has to do with getting closure for these characters and trying in part to resolve some of the messiness that I assume would have been resolved had we been allowed another 2 or 3 wonderful seasons of Gilmore Girls. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading!**


	24. The Last Hurrah

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

"So, are you going to tell me where we're going _now_?" whined an increasingly anxious Rory as she watched the private plane fly over more hopelessly untelling landscape.

Logan pretended to actually consider her request this time. He cocked his head and tapped his pointer finger on his chin. "No," he said finally.

"Great," she replied, crossing her arms forlornly.

"Ace, you know the drill. No revealing the location, no matter how many times you pester us. We didn't budge on this in the black SUV, and we're not budging now. You should be thankful you don't have a blindfold on. All of you," he said, addressing the rest of the cabin, which included Paris, Doyle, Finn, Rosaline, Colin, and Stephanie in addition to themselves.

"Hey, _most_ of us are LDB members. We shouldn't _need_ blindfolds."

"You're right, you are, and that is why you should be appalled by the fact that, for our safety and the peace of mind of my wife, I broke LDB protocol. There are actually four people that knew where we were going prior to departure," Logan said smugly to Rory.

"Oh? And who might the lucky fourth be, other than yourself, Colin, and Finn?" Rory was skeptical as to whether or not this person could actually guarantee "safety."

"Your mother."

"My mother?! You trusted Lorelai Gilmore the Second with this information, but not your own wife?!" Rory was mostly yelling in mock anger. Of course she felt better knowing someone who wasn't going to be intoxicated for three days straight would know of their whereabouts and be able to call for help should the need arise. Well, at least she _shouldn't_ be intoxicated for three days straight, but who could be sure?

"It's not about trust Ace," he replied, shaking his head and speaking slowly, as if to a three-year-old. "It's—"

"Yeah, yeah. It's 'protocol.'"

"Well, you can give up the spat, Mates, it looks like we're about to land," Finn said, his nose pressed to the glass.

Rory hastily turned to the window just as the clouds were thinning. Below her were hoards of trees, and every so often, a tiny button's worth of deep, blue water, dotting the forest like drops of butter on apple pie. Suddenly, the ground cleared, and the plane started to lower more rapidly, aiming to touch down in the large clearing.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the captain chimed over the loudspeaker. "Please fasten your seatbelts as we make our descent into Aquisimón, San Luis Potosí, Mexico."

* * *

Well, at least _someone_ was having fun as spring forced its floral scents and drizzly days into the consciousness of the Stars Hollow inhabitants. For Lorelai, the inn couldn't be busier and she was working six days a week, ten or twelve hours a day. The only upside was that Luke had officially moved into her house last month, William's fishing poles and all. The office Luke had been living in was now being converted into an office space he could actually use. And if he absolutely needed it, there was still Jess's old bed and another Murphy bed being installed.

What the new living arrangement also meant was that they could finally start planning their wedding, which Lorelai hoped would take place in eight months time.

"Lorelai, the computer will not start itself you know. Your idle staring will not turn that dark screen into something else, no matter how potent you think the powers of your mind are," said Michele, his accent dripping with more sarcasm than usual.

"You're snarky today Michel. New diet?"

"Don't remind me. I've come to inform you there is a very annoying woman in the kitchen who requires your attention."

"Once more with enthusiasm Michel, so I can tell your behavioral therapist what progress you're making," Lorelai said with mock cheer.

"Get away from me," he said, his eyes narrowed in frustration.

"I think you're getting it!" Lorelai joked as she turned away from the front desk and went towards the kitchen.

"Malinda, Michel said there was someone here to see me?" She was addressing the current head chef, as Sookie had been out on maternity leave since December, staying home with baby James. At least the transition had been a little smoother this time around since Sookie actually chose Malinda _before_ she went into labor.

"Surprise!" Sookie said, jumping out from behind the center island.

"Sookie! What are you doing here? I thought you were home with James for another week!"

"Got sprung early hon. Jackson's staying home with him until the nanny starts." Sookie looked around the bustling kitchen. "So, what's on the lunch menu today?" She was already pulling on her chef's coat and rolling up the sleeves.

"Oh, come on, don't we at least get to celebrate before you get to cooking?"

Sookie looked at her best friend, disappointed. All she had been dreaming about was getting back to the kitchen. "Okay, where are we going?" she said, untying the extra apron at her waist.

Lorelai moved to one of the refrigerators and reached to the back of the lower corner, retrieving the Grey Goose vodka she kept there. "We're not going anywhere. You think I'd rip you away from your kitchen the day you come back? No, we're just gonna take a shot to commemorate your homecoming, and end of your child bearing years."

"Yeah, well now that Jackson actually went _through_ with the procedure…"

"Here here!" shouted Lorelai, raising her shot glass, clinking it with Sookie's and swigging the clear liquid back with a grimace.

"Okay, let's get started!" said Sookie to her cooking staff.

"I guess I have to go fire Malinda and give her an advance on her last paycheck." But Sookie wasn't even paying attention to Lorelai at this point—it was all about the food.

* * *

Lorelai walked into the Crap Shack around eight o' clock and found Luke sprawled out in the living room with his tools around him. He was bent over something, hammering at it furiously.

"Oh my god, I'm imagining so many dirty fantasies that could play out because of this situation," Lorelai said, dropping her bag on the couch.

Luke, upon hearing what his fiancée said, accidentally hammered his thumb. "Ah geez!" he said, shoving the reddening appendage in his mouth. He looked at Lorelai. "Thanks for that."

"What? We live together, aren't you used to my wit yet? And what's all this?"

"No one could ever fully adjust," he said, getting off the floor and giving her a kiss. "I'm building you a bookcase for all your friggin' books and crap."

"Hey, that's half your crap now, too."

"I know. I left you some dinner. It's in the fridge, covered in tin foil. Just heat it up in the oven for five minutes."

Lorelai wrapped her arms around Luke's neck. "What is this 'oven' you speak of?"

"Big thing, next to the sink, you usually warm your socks in it?"

Lorelai was silent.

"Fine, I'll do it."

"I could put it in the microwave," she yelled to him as he went into the kitchen.

"That thing will kill you," he said.

Lorelai heard him moving around the kitchen, so she flopped down on the couch and flicked on the TV. A few minutes later, Luke brought her the plate and a glass of wine.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he went back into the kitchen.

"Beer," he said. "Plus you're probably watching something stupid."

"I am watching something stupid, and you're gonna watch it with me. And I already got you a beer."

Luke came back into the living room and canvassed the coffee table. "I don't see it."

An impish grin spread across Lorelai's face. She lifted the skirt of the couch, underneath which was enough space for a mini fridge. She had stocked it with a few bottles of beer. She grabbed one and handed it to Luke, who sat down next to her as he twisted off the cap.

"How?" is all he asked.

"I ordered it online last week and set it up while you were working late at the diner last night."

"You're kidding."

"Nuh uh," she replied, turning her attention to the TV and digging in to her delicious meal. "Of course my intentions weren't purely selfless. This decreases the amount of times I have to leave the couch to get nourishment, having such a handy device nearby."

"You call that stuff you eat 'nourishment?'"

"There's vegetables in there now that you live here."

"Yes, but you almost exclusively eat Mallomars and other junk."

She looked at him with the smile of a five-year-old caught stealing from the cookie jar. "Remember, you love me."

"That I do," he said, putting his arm around her. His attention quickly wavered from the movie they were watching, causing his eyes to alight on pretty much any other object in the room. His gaze fell to a stack of bridal magazines shoved in the corner. "Were those Rory's?" he asked.

"What babe?" Lorelai asked, still focused on the movie.

"Those magazines over there. Were those from Rory's wedding?"

Lorelai turned her head. "Those? Oh yeah. I mean, I added a few new ones to the pile," she said distractedly. "I'll probably return hers when they get back from Mexico."

"Anything good in there?"

Lorelai sighed and paused the movie. Luke had insisted they invest in a Tivo box when Lorelai made them bolt out of a restaurant at 7:15 so she could catch her eight o' clock Tuesday night show. "You're awfully curious tonight," she remarked.

"I mean, we haven't really talked about the wedding since the proposal, you know? Isn't that how it works? I propose, then we get married?"

"Yes, but I've been working on it, don't you worry."

"Well maybe _you've _been working on it, but I haven't. Shouldn't I kind of be involved?"

Lorelai readjusted her position to face Luke. "Of _course_ you should be involved! I just didn't really think it was your scene. Girly dresses and bouquets, picking out plate patterns and linens, and invitations."

"It's not, but it is our wedding. I could make an exception."

Lorelai hopped off the couch and retrieved the stack. She flipped open the magazine on top to a page depicting a wedding hall, outfitted in tones of peach and white. "I was thinking something like this."

"It's peach," he said, repulsed by the image.

"Well obviously the color is negotiable, but the layout."

Luke took a closer look. "It's nice. I really like it. But does it have to be in a catering hall?"

"Well, where else would it be?"

"I don't know…the town square maybe? We're kind of home grown people, don't you think that's more our taste?"

"Yes, it is definitely more our taste, but my parents are covering the cost of the wedding, and I'm pretty sure I'd get to see my mother's face turn a thousand different shades of red if I told her our wedding was going to be in December in the town square. Now, as entertaining as that might be, I just don't know if her makeup artist can take the heartache of seeing her perfectly designed rouge be upstaged by a show of actual emotion!"

Luke nodded and put his beer down on the coffee table. "Fair enough. But hey, I like December."

"You do? I'm sorry, I should have asked you first. I just love winter, you know, so I figured it would be a good month."

"No it's perfect. That way April can be in the wedding."

"Oh. In the wedding party?" Lorelai tried not to convey her disappointment. She liked April, but she had already decided exactly who her bridesmaids were going to be, and unfortunately, she hadn't envisioned her fiancé's daughter with another woman to be part of the lineup.

"Yeah. She can be a bridesmaid, or whatever they're called. It's during her winter break, and it's senior year of high school. I'm sure her mother won't mind coming with her."

"Anna's coming?"

"Well we haven't sent out invitations yet, obviously, but yeah I think it's the right thing to do."

Lorelai adjusted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. You want your daughter with another woman to stand next to your new wife at your wedding, and you want the woman you had that child with to be sitting in the audience? That doesn't strike you as just a little odd?"

Luke went wide-eyed. "Where is this coming from? Yes, April is my daughter. I can't change that, and I don't want to change that. Unfortunately, getting to know my daughter means also having to deal with my crazy ex-girlfriend, but it's worth it. What happened to all that 'Let's have her over for Christmas' stuff? Did you mentally just skip that week? Did an alternate personality take over at Thanksgiving dinner when you suggested it? I thought that was your olive branch, that you'd forgiven me for all of that. What do you want to hear? Yes, Lorelai, it was stupid of me not to tell you about her, to shut you out. I'm sorry, and I can only say it so many times."

"No, Luke, it wasn't a lapse in judgment. I do love April, it's just that I didn't exactly picture her being in the wedding. But being there and being involved are two totally different things."

"What if I said, 'Rory can't be in the wedding.' Huh? How would you like that?"

"It's Rory, Luke, don't be ridiculous. You've known her longer than you've known April!"

"Well I wish I'd known my own daughter longer, Lorelai, but I didn't have that option, Anna made sure of it." He slammed down his half empty bottle. "You know what, I don't have to deal with this crap! Put whoever the hell _you_ want in the wedding, I'll stay out of your way. Just tell me when and where to show up and I'll be standing there. I'm done!" His hands blocked his body with a rigid inflexibility, as if actually shielding himself from the darts of her words. He took the stairs two at a time with an unyieldingly heavy foot. The door crushing the doorjamb made Lorelai cringe. And then she tears came as if the door had severed her heart in two.

* * *

"Thank you Jimmy, you can take our bags to that RV over there," said Logan to the man who had approached the group as they disembarked from the plane. Finn and Colin whisked their respective ladies off to their own homes-on-wheels, and Paris immediately found one of the locals and began practicing her rusty high school Spanish, which Nanny had supplemented.

Rory took in the landscape, her reporting senses already snaking out of her body like uncontrollable probes. Of course none of this would ever make the papers, just her own memory. No one outside the LDB could know that in April, it was a warm 80 degrees and fairly dry, that despite large patches of well-worn dirt, this part of Mexico was carpeted in thick, lush grass and forests that, from their vantage point in the sky, had appeared like thousands of lime Jell-O molds morphed together into one soft, inviting pillow. That every so often, the trees broke, dropping off to make room for crystal cerulean pools of cool, fresh water. It was all so breathtaking.

Logan, too, was immediately in his element. Wearing plaid shorts and a salmon collared shirt, he flipped his sunglasses down over his eyes from their perch on top of his head, and walked over to a group of LDBers standing huddled over a large piece of paper. He approached them like the ringmaster over his circus. Rory followed.

"Seany!" Logan yelled.

The short-statured, bespectacled engineering maestro from Yale looked up to focus on Logan instead of the object of interest. "Logan, glad you made it here in one piece!"

"I'm sure you're about to change that with this plan. Let's see what we've got." The circle parted to make space for Rory and Logan.

Rory's eyes alighted on a topographical map, the lines drawn so close together in one spot that they may as well have been an inkblot. "Where's that?" Rory questioned, pointing to the circular construction on the vellum.

Logan squinted against the sun, turning the map this way and that, trying to discern something. "That is… about ten feet behind you," Logan said, a smile creasing his face.

Rory turned around slowly. The noon sun was beating heavily upon them. A faint wind of reprieve picked up, taking with it a gaggle of tiny rocks and debris at the site where Logan was pointing. The pebbles blew over, and the next time Rory heard any evidence of their gravelly journey across the landscape, was when they landed 1,300 feet below the ground. "Logan," Rory said uneasily, turning back to her husband. "Where did those rocks fall?"

"The rocks? Oh I wouldn't worry about them. There's plenty of rocks where they are, and if you're so concerned, you can always retrieve them tomorrow just after dawn."

"And how is that, if they've just pulled a Houdini?"

"Well we'll be following suit, down about 400 meters, into the Cave of Swallows."

Rory bristled at the thought of descending into a cave. A dark, deep, wet, mostly unexplored cave with strange creatures and many unknowns. She swallowed the panic that had welled up into her chest cavity, threatening to pop her lungs from the inside out. "Just so long as there aren't any ladders," she said, turning her distracted gaze back to Logan.

Logan smiled. "No ladders. Only parachutes."

"It's a step up from umbrellas. No offense Sean."

"None taken," Sean replied offhandedly, memorizing the map for the umpteenth time.

Sunlight rose and stretched languidly over the landscape, extending its fingers and toes and limbs into every crack and corner, warming the Earth as it revived its own lifeblood.

* * *

Six a.m. The crew, Logan's term for Sean and the other engineers, had been up since four perfecting the riggings.

There was dew coating the tufts of grass, making the blades top heavy and droopy, as any organism should be at this hour. The rock face of the cave was frozen to the touch. Tiny veins of ice that had formed in the crevices over night had broken miniscule bits of debris off from the main structure and were just now beginning to melt. The small group of twenty or so were outfitted in harnesses and helmets, circled around the mouth of the cave. Sean gave one final tug on a rope, and gave the thumbs-up sign to Finn, the elected Master of Ceremonies. Finn checked his watch, then cleared his throat.

"It has been nearly a year since we emerged from the bosom of those hallowed halls of our alma mater, Yale University. One year since what many thought was the last hurrah for the 305th Life and Death Brigade. That is, for those odd few that could not, and would not, be with us today. Though our ranks have decreased in number, our spirit has only multiplied, fortified by the twenty-strong group present today, whose vigor and zeal more than compensate for the traitorous few.

"As you may know, _this_ will likely be our last voyage together. Graduated chapters have but one chance to reconvene after leaving, according to our by-laws. If we are so lucky, at future Yale reunions, we may get the infrequent chance to reclaim lost glory, if enough members agree to fund it.

"But enough gloom. We have gathered today somewhere in the heart of Mexico, at the revered Cave of Swallows. In a few moments, the reason for its namesake shall make itself known and our journey will begin, but first, we have some official business to discuss. There are two new members among us today—Paris Geller, celebrated editor of our beloved newspaper and our class valedictorian who joins us by connection through her husband, Doyle McMaster. He too was editor of the Yale Daily News, leading the couple to make ill-timed jokes about who was sleeping with the editor. He was instrumental in our fearless leader's bachelor party, Mr. Logan Huntzberger."

Alcohol-infused applause followed. Finn continued.

"And Rosaline Martin comes to us from my homeland of Australia. Technically, Rosaline meets none of the criteria for membership, except being my girlfriend, which entitles her to a two-day attendance grant. However, both of our new members will undergo some form of initiation, the rules of which your are all familiar with, and we will put her inauguration to a vote."

Finn checked his watch again.

"Okay, we have one minute. The newest ladies will descend first into the cave, either by base jump or harness. Everyone else will follow suit. Once we hit—I mean reach—the floor, find your SCUBA gear and suit up. The next leg is 300 feet below water, entailing a two-mile swim up to another rock plateau where the party continues all night long. The water-_Sanctum_ inspired theme is a follow-up to Logan's bachelor party, which was the test run, so we hope we've done it right this time. Okay, ready then? Raise your glasses."

Champagne glasses clinked against each other as they were hoisted into the air.

"Three," Finn began, his eyes on his digital timepiece so they wouldn't miss the moment. "Two…one! _In Omnia Paratus_!"

"_In Omnia Paratus_!" they parroted as they tipped back their libations. A great whirring noise was heard and they all turned their heads, believing it to be a helicopter. It was instead a swarm of swallows, the delicate white birds circling and funneling out of the cave in a tornado-like current, streaming towards the sun. Just as it seemed their wing tips would be singed, they reached out and flapped their wings, taking off into flight in a formation of well over a hundred. It was a glorious sight.

Rosaline was more excited than anyone to be partaking in the event. While grander in scope, the danger barely compared to some of her adventures on the high seas. She clipped the ropes into her harness, tested the weight, and made to descend, but Paris was never one to allow her competitive streak to fall by the wayside.

"Hold on a minute, Commie!" Paris yelled, ripping three champagne glasses out of a few guests' hands and downing their contents.

"Commie?" Logan asked, leaning in towards Doyle.

"The red hair, Lucille Ball, McCarthy's 1950s attack on Hollywood. I'm sure that had something to do with the thought process. That and the alcohol."

Sean stopped Paris before she toppled over the edge in just enough time to hook her harness up for a base jump. Inhibitions erased, she leaped down into the cave, and Rosaline was quick to follow.

"Newbies showed us," Colin murmured under his breath to Stephanie.

Finn loved every minute of the girls' show of course. "In Omnia Paratus!" he shouted, before following suit. He had succeeded in riling the crowd, and one after another, each LDB member was descending down into the Cave of Swallows, donning wet suits and SCUBA tanks, and gazing down at the sea life, before they reemerged onto a rock plateau, where Finn had set up a luau style fête.

* * *

Food, music, and general merriment abounded. Everyone was drunk, and a group of still-erudite Yalies were still playing grammar games with their speech. Paris and Rosaline were dumfounded at their inability to get anyone to speak to them, especially after the stunt they had pulled. Contrary to Rory's case, however, they were able to speak to each other. Sean was monitoring the radio, receiving frequent weather reports and any emergency calls from the helicopter flying overhead. The only thing he was worried about was a major rainstorm, because then they could be potentially flooded in.

As the evening wore on, Finn, as Master of Ceremonies was intent on inducting the two newest members, provided everyone agreed.

"Okay, okay, gather 'round."

The noisy party hushed to a quiet background din as everyone circled the blazing bonfire.

"We can safely admit that the girls' stunning routine earlier was nothing short of amazing, and given that they have successfully proven their knowledge of our famous Latin phrase—anyone who doesn't believe me can check the chalk drawing on the rock face over there—they have but one more test to pass."

Two boys brought the ceremonial suckling pig over from the buffet table and placed it on a spit-rack over the flames.

"If each of you," Finn continued, "can successfully leap over the fire, and grab the apple in the pig's mouth, we will read you our verdict."

Rosaline shrugged and prepared to jump. Paris's buzz was wearing off, and she backed away unconsciously, looking over at Doyle. Doyle was standing by the food, his leg hiding a fire extinguisher he had procured. This quelled her fears a little.

"All right, babe. On three," Finn said, locking eyes with Rosaline. "One…two…three!"

Rosaline pulled her knees to her chest and successfully jumped over the flames, spearing the apple on a sharpened stick she had nearby.

A cheer went up from the crowd. By all accounts, she had passed the test.

Paris made her attempt tentatively, losing her nerve while airborne. She let her legs drop, which succeeded in kicking the apple out of the pig's mouth. She landed on her feet, left then right, just past the fire. She held her breath, ascertaining her corporeal existence.

"I'm alive! I made it!" she said breathlessly.

Everyone started to cheer, but their looks of glee turned to ones of confusion and then horror as they realized that the cuff of Paris's left pant leg and caught an ember and was being engulfed by flame.

"Paris is burning!" someone yelled from the back.

Doyle, who had turned his face from the scene, unable to watch, was lost in silent prayer. He heard the comment, whipped his head around, and blanched at the sight of his wife. He grabbed the fire extinguisher and charged her with the white foam shooting out like a laser in front of him.

Although soaked, it worked, and Paris was less elated than angry.

The alcohol made its rounds once more, and Finn took the floor for his announcement after taking a poll of the crowd.

"It has been decided, by unanimous consent of those present, that both Rosaline Martin and Paris Geller are fit to join the ranks of the 305th Life and Death Brigade, on the basis of their fearlessness, stunning bravery, and wit. _In Omnia Paratus_!"

Everyone repeated the phrase and the activity resumed.

* * *

**A/N: Okay so I'm not usually into writing big gatherings like this, but I gave it a shot. Sorry I haven't updated in a while-school and all of that. Your reviews have definitely kept me going! Thank you all for commenting, just to know people are engaged with the story is the biggest motivation a writer could ask for. Happy reading!**


	25. Family Matters

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

The tents had started going up an hour ago as the party wound to a close and people prepared to call it a night. Sean had fallen asleep by the radio, and had been given new facial features with a Sharpie marker. He was woken promptly by a crackling on the communications device. He listened intently and made a beeline for Logan and Rory's tent, which they were about to enter.

"Logan!" yelled Sean, stumbling and breathless.

Logan stopped, his hand on Rory's shoulder, halfway through a laugh procured by something Finn had said. He turned half-heartedly to Sean. "What's up, Seany?"

"I just got a call. Base camp got word from your emergency contact that you need to get home as soon as humanly possible."

Logan's hand dropped and he turned to face Sean full on, fire in his eyes. "My mother called? What's wrong?"

Rory was alarmed, watching the dialogue go back and forth between her husband and Sean.

"Apparently Honor's gone into labor. The helicopter's waiting at the mouth of the cave to take you to the commercial airport and catch the next plane back to the States."

Logan took one look at Rory, but she didn't need any convincing. They were going to be there for Honor, even if they showed up three days late.

"Great, Sean, thanks so much. I trust you guys can handle cleanup in the morning, and we'll call you when we get to the hospital."

Sean nodded and gave a slightly inebriated salute as Rory and Logan prepared to traverse their way out of the cave.

* * *

Rory and Logan stumbled into the hospital in Hartford, ragged and exhausted. They hadn't showered or changed clothes since leaving Mexico, although they had been able to catch a little bit of sleep, so they were somewhat alert and ready to face the overwhelming crowd of family.

Josh, looking just as haggard, jumped up from his seat. "You guys made it," he said with relief.

Logan smiled. "Of course, we wouldn't miss this for the world. Although I was sure we wouldn't make it for the birth but…"

"You have no idea. She's been in labor for over twelve hours. I'm sure she's about to go insane, but it's no walk in the park for me either. I'm catching five minutes of sleep before I go back into her room. I already had to remove my tie and rings—she used both as torture devices in a way only Honor could." Josh offered a sheepish, defeated smile, underneath which was absolute elation and fear at his impending stint as a dad.

Logan laughed. "Actually, I have a pretty good idea. We _did_ grow up together. Let me go check in on her, give you a few more minutes reprieve."

"Thank you," Josh said, sinking back down onto the grungy upholstery.

"Logan, I'm gonna go find us some coffee. I'll meet you in Honor's room. Does anybody else want anything?"

Shira and an assortment of Honor's friends had nodded off and failed to awaken when Rory and Logan arrived. Her question unanswered, Rory disappeared into the white maze of the hospital in search of fuel, and Logan went to find Honor.

* * *

"Hey there," Logan said, putting on that effortless smirk of his. A nurse was just leaving Honor's room after checking up on her. The nurse appeared traumatized, and closed the door against Honor's wrath with a loud slam. Logan sat down next to Honor's bed and took her hand in his.

"Thank God you're here. I almost killed everybody else, there wouldn't be anyone left," Honor said with a sulk.

"You can't get rid of them that easily. They're sleeping in the waiting room."

"I've pulled you away from your trip," Honor said with a pout.

"What? No you didn't. I wouldn't have missed this for anything, not even an invitation to the White House. How're you doing?"

Honor sighed. "I'm doing fine except that my son doesn't seem to want to make an appearance."

"How much longer do they expect this to go on?"

Honor shrugged, her exhaustion showing in the sagging skin around her eyes. "It'll feel shorter now that you're here."

"Knock knock," Rory said, rapping her knuckles against the door before entering and handing Logan a cup of coffee.

"Rory! My favorite sister-in-law! I'm so glad you're here!"

"Of course!" Rory said, coming around the other side of the bed to give Honor a kiss on the cheek. "I'm your _only _sister-in-law. But you'll forgive me if I leave now. Logan can tell you the story of when Sookie went into labor. Let's just say she fared better than I did."

Logan chuckled as Rory hightailed it out of the room. He turned to Honor. "She's not good in hospitals. Or around blood. Or needles. Or spiders."

"Nothing gross. Got it. It should be fun for you when she's in this bed."

Logan tried not to let the smile he had from the easy banter between him and his sister fall too far down his face. But Honor was no fool.

"What?" she said, her brow creasing suddenly.

Logan shook his head. "It's not important now."

Honor rolled her eyes. "Logan. I have nowhere to be. You have nowhere to be. I need a distraction, and you have something on your mind. Spill."

"The topic has come up, of course it has. But as of right now, Rory's not really all that eager to have kids and—"

"—And that's all you've wanted since you're fifteen years old. I know. But you can't expect her to jump into something like this. You're both very young, Logan. You started your life young. When the time is right for both of you, she'll come around. You have to believe that."

Logan nodded somberly. "I do. It's just hard sometimes. Watching Josh go through this whole thing…I guess I'm jealous."

"Normally I would agree with you, but I don't see much to be jealous about yet," Josh said, entering the room. Logan moved so Josh could sit next to Honor.

"No, I guess not yet. Well, we'll be in the waiting room. I love you, sis."

"Love you too," Honor replied, as Josh tepidly took her hand, afraid of the pain it could instill.

* * *

Logan joined his mother and wife among the other anxious families of various patients, and nodded off to sleep.

"Logan!" Shira hissed. She was trying to shake her son awake for various reasons, the least of which was his snoring that was beginning to disturb others in the waiting room. He woke up with a start, accidentally tossing Rory's head off his shoulder, where it had fallen in exhaustion a few hours ago.

"What? I'm up, I'm up," he said drowsily. He looked around at the empty seats where his family and friends had been sitting. "Where is everyone?"

Shira smiled. "They're in Honor's room. He's here."

With the revelation that Josh and Honor's son had finally come into this world, Logan jumped out of his seat and dashed to meet his nephew.

Rory smiled and turned to Shira. "He's so excited about being an uncle. It's all he's been talking about for the last few months. He's worse than a pregnant woman around baby clothes."

Shira nodded. "He was always good with the little kids at family gatherings. He liked entertaining them much more than being at the adult table. It explains a lot about his personality."

"That it does," Rory consented. "So, what's his name?"

"Connor," Shira said, leading Rory to Honor's room. "After someone on Josh's side of the family."

Rory stopped just inside the doorjamb, not wanting to crowd the room that was filled with Honor's friends and immediate family. Logan was holding Connor in his arms. She smiled. The last time she had seen him so unadulteratedly happy was on their wedding day.

* * *

"I think I'm gonna head straight to bed," Logan said, yawning as they entered their house later that evening.

"I'll be up in a minute. I never heard back from Steph after we told them we made it home so I want to check the answering machine."

Logan nodded and went upstairs. Rory went into the kitchen, but the only messages were from her mom and grandma. It wasn't that late, but she was too exhausted to call them back so she followed Logan upstairs.

They had both changed quickly, and Logan was already reclined on the pillows, adorned in reading glasses, but he was nodding off in front of his computer. Rory moved the covers on her side of the bed and got under the cool sheets. "Logan," she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Are you awake?"

"Barely."

Rory stayed quiet for a moment, debating if now was the moment to bring this up, but the more time that passed, the odder it would be. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Logan was alert now. "Sorry for what?"

Rory played nervously with the top sheet in her hand. "You looked so happy today. Tired, but so, so happy when you were holding Connor. The last time I saw you that happy was on our wedding day, and I feel like I'm failing you if you're not that happy every single day. I think part of it is that I want to wait a little bit longer before we start trying to have kids, and I know what a huge deal that is to you, but—"

"Rory," he cut her off. He sighed, because he knew he hadn't been making it any easier on her with constant hints and nudges, especially over the past few months. "I should be the one apologizing. It doesn't matter to me. I know that I've been so overly excited about becoming an uncle, but when you're ready, you'll be ready, and then you won't resent me for forcing you through the whole experience. All I ask is that you keep me in the loop and talk to me about what you're feeling. But honestly, seeing Josh today, and after talking to Honor, I don't blame you for not wanting to dive in headfirst. When you jump, I jump, Jack. Remember?"

"I remember," she said with a smile. "I just don't want _you_ to resent me for wanting to wait."

"I don't. I never could. If at the end of my years all I have is you, then that will still be enough."

Rory closed Logan's laptop and took his glasses off his face, reaching across him to put them on the nightstand and turn off the light. "You're a good one, Logan Huntzberger," she said, settling close to his chest for some much needed rest. "Love you."

"Love you too, Ace." He threaded his fingers through her hair. She was drifting off to sleep, a place Logan had thought he'd already be, but what Rory said had struck a chord. He knew he could never resent her—of that he was sure, but he didn't know for how long her could keep pretending that it didn't matter to him when and if they started a family. He was left with this to ponder as his deep thoughts drove him to the limits of his wakeful exhaustion, and he finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! Just a short update to hold you over. The good news is that after spring break, the rest of the semester will be over in a flash and I'll have more time to write over the summer. Thank you for being patient and sticking with this. This story is very important to me, and I look forward to reading your reviews every day - they keep me going! Happy reading!**


	26. Bring Home the Brigade

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

Rory dressed and went downstairs to return calls to her mother and grandmother. Emily had merely wanted advice on what she should get Richard for his birthday since he had "absolutely _everything_" according to his wife.

Rory let her gaze wander around the kitchen, making notes for things she needed to get, as she waited for her mother to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" Lorelai's voice was leaden as she answered the call.

"Mom? Are you okay?" Rory was alarmed—her mother was almost universally chipper, despite anything she was actually feeling.

"Rory? I thought you were in Mexico."

"Logan and I came back early because his sister had the baby. Mom, what's wrong?" Rory shouted. She was already trying to remember where her car keys were in case she needed to go to her mother's aid.

Lorelai dragged herself out of her bed, taking the blankets with her as she cradled the portable between her shoulder and ear. She stumbled a little as she made her way to the kitchen to brew much-needed coffee—anything to help relieve her hangover. "Rory, I did a really stupid thing." Lorelai sighed. "I freaked on Luke. He wanted April to be in the wedding party and he was going on and on about wanting to invite Anna and how the wedding is during April's senior year winter break so she'll probably be able to come and I snapped. I basically said he'd known you longer than his own daughter and it'd be weird for me to have her as a bridesmaid. And of course he retreated to his apartment after two days of total silence between us even though all of his stuff is here. I feel like he's just sitting up there drinking beer when he's not working and I don't want him doing that. When we fight I want him to want to stick around and work it out even if that means yelling at each other and…did I screw up? Did I screw it up again?"

Rory was heartbroken. She knew her mom and Luke had had their ups and downs, had had issues with not being on the same track and she knew in her heart of hearts that they were going to make it to the altar this time. But she couldn't help feeling her mother's pain as if it were her own. "You didn't screw it up, Mom. It probably would be weird to have the ex-girlfriend and the daughter of your fiancé at your wedding, and you're totally justified for thinking that, but maybe not in the way you told him. April is his family, you know, and he probably feels torn between wanting to make you happy and maintaining a relationship with his daughter."

Lorelai rubbed her forehead. "I know, you're right. Ugh why don't I call you before I get so heated that I can't think straight?"

"Mom, don't be so hard on yourself. I gotta go but I'll catch up with you later?"

"Yeah, babe. Send my best to Logan and Honor, okay?"

Rory hung up the phone, scribbled a note to Logan, and went to pay a visit to Luke's Diner.

* * *

The diner was busy as usual, so Rory took a seat at the counter and ordered a coffee from Cesar. Luke came behind the counter to put in some orders a few minutes later.

"Rory," Luke said, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here? Your mom said you and Logan were in Mexico until tomorrow night."

"We came back early. How are you doing, Luke?"

It was unusual for Rory, or Lorelai for that matter, to ask him how he was doing, unless they wanted something from him. Which is why Luke faltered as he topped off Rory's mug of coffee. He set the pot down on the counter and sighed. "Your mom told you we had a fight, didn't she?"

Rory looked down and stirred her coffee. She'd known Luke her entire life, had witnessed first hand his annoyance with town meddling, and therefore knew how much it bothered him when other people tried to get involved in his business. "She did. And, Luke, I know what she said hurt you. She's not always great at tact, especially when she's in the moment. So I totally understand why you got upset. But try to see it from her perspective. Mom has always put other people before herself, especially when she was raising me, so she pushed her happiness to the side for a long time. She's finally happy, Luke. You make her that way, and she wants your wedding to be that new beginning for her. Having April in the wedding party, having Anna sitting there…do you see how that could put a damper on that for her?"

Luke had stooped to rest his elbows on the counter, holding his chin in pensive thought as Rory spoke. He straightened and rubbed the back of his neck when Rory finished. "You got your wit from her, you know that?"

Rory smiled. "So I've been told. You're getting married this time, hell or high water, and if you think Mom is bad when she wants something, I'm ten times worse."

"Thank you for taking care of us, Rory. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I just needed some time. You can tell your mom I'll be home later."

Both Luke and Rory turned their heads as the bells on the door jingled. Logan came barreling into the diner, wild-eyed. "Rory," Logan said, breathless.

Rory stood up off her stool. Instinctively she knew something was wrong.

"I just got a call from Sean. Something went wrong when they were trying to get out of the cave…Finn, Steph, and Rosaline are being airlifted to the hospital in Hartford. They—" Logan had managed to keep it together since hearing the news when he was in the bagel store, all the way home, and as he ran to the diner, but that was mostly the adrenaline holding up the barricades. He lost it when he tried to relay it to Rory because he saw mirrored in her features his own paralyzing fear that his best friends were suffering, or worse, dead.

* * *

"Where is Paris when you need her?" Rory screamed, turning away empty handed at the triage desk. Paris and Doyle had left just ahead of the crowd—they both had to get back to Boston for work and school, so Rory had failed to procure any more information about the fate of the three LDBers who were currently patients and kin of no one present. She collapsed into the chair next to Logan. He'd barely stirred, unable to allow his gaze to waver from where he had it steadfastly anchored to the floor. She'd never seen Logan so broken—he was always her knight in shining armor, showing up on the white steed just at her moment of crisis and making it all go away. Now, all of a sudden, she had to be that for him.

A doctor in scrubs, facemask hanging off his face, exited the doors leading to the ORs and every LDB member stood, hoping there was news. The doctor approached a different family, and everyone resumed sitting with an anxious sigh.

Logan was bad, but Colin was worse. He'd gotten scraped and bruised a little, and he'd already had a small gash on his cheek looked at. But not having Finn beside him now, having to worry that his girlfriend and his best friend who was practically his twin would both not come through this was debilitating. He approached the nurses' desk with hesitancy, his clothes hanging about him unkempt, pathetic as a puppy. "Nurse…" He squinted at one of the nametags. "Nurse Gruver, do you have _any_ information you'd be willing to part with about the patients that came in here a few hours ago? Finneus Sorenson, Rosaline Roberts, and Stephanie Vogel?"

"I'm very sorry sir, but as I told your friend Ms. Gilmore, your friend Sean Guild, and all of your thirty other friends, I can't release information to anyone who isn't kin of the patients."

"Well that's just it," Colin said, his voice softening. "I am kin…of one of the patients, Stephanie Vogel. Well I hope to be, anyway." Colin pulled a box out of his pocket, one he had been planning to present to Stephanie when they got back from Mexico, but those plans had been quashed by sadistic fate. "I was going to give this to her until a few hours ago when she was whisked into this hospital and I haven't been able to see her or talk to her since. And Finn and Rosaline…they are my family. I don't want to bore you with my backstory, and I'm sure you don't much care, but for a while there I wasn't sure I'd ever see Stephanie again, long before she made it into this hospital…and if not for Finn and his girlfriend and these thirty people sitting behind me, I never would have found my way back to her. We may not be a family like those people sitting over there in the matching T-shirts from some vacation clearly gone awry, but we are a family and we deserve to know what happened to three of them."

The nurse narrowed her eyes—she was used to over the top ploys worked over on her by desperate people confined to a waiting room, but Colin seemed genuine. He had the engagement ring and everything, which was more than she could say for most people in his situation. She took a deep breath. "I'm breaking protocol here, so keep your mouth shut." The nurse flipped through some files on her desk. "Mr. Sorenson and Ms. Roberts are conscious, they have a number of lacerations up and down their arms and faces, and Mr. Sorenson has a broken left arm. They should be discharged in a few hours. Ms. Vogel is currently in a coma from head injuries sustained and we're watching her closely. A doctor will be along in a few minutes to give you more detailed information."

Colin closed the ring box that had remained ajar and turned woodenly back to his friends, all of whom had heard his oration and the nurse's response. Nobody knew how to react to 50% good news and 50% of the most heartbreaking news they could have possibly imagined. So they sat in more deafening silence, their own heartbeats mocking their fear.

* * *

Rory had stepped outside to make a few phone calls. With everything that had happened in the last 48 hours, she'd neglected to check in at work or with any of her attachments to the real world. She had spoken to Paris and Lane and her boss and was just about to head inside. Logan came to fetch her.

"Hey," he said, looking favorably up at the sunshine. "It's unbelievable. We're here twice in two days—once for something happy and then once for…this." Logan sighed and looked back at his wife. "They just let us into their rooms in small groups."

Rory breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh great that's so good to hear. How's Colin?"

Logan shrugged. "He's okay. He's just sitting there holding her hand. He went to check up on Finn and Rosaline, who by the way requested a joint room and are staring at each other all googly-eyed. You know Finn, he's on one of his bouts of 'fate intervening' and that's why they weren't all killed etcetera. But Colin…" Logan held back tears. Rory kissed him softly, everywhere she could to reassure him she was there. He looked up at her. "Rory…all I keep thinking about is what if that were you? I'd never forgive myself…I'd never be able to move on…I can't imagine what Colin is going through. At least I got to live a life with you, but he may not get his chance." He shook his head in disbelief.

Rory guided him to a bench near the hospital doors and just let him unwind. "What are you thinking about?" she said after a few minutes of anguished silence.

Logan looked at her in earnest. "The night he went after her, Thanksgiving, when I was giving him crap for pursuing the relationship, do you know what he said to me?"

Rory shook her head.

"He said, 'She's my Rory, Logan, what am I supposed to do?'"

Rory felt a new wave of sadness crash over her. Her heart was breaking for her friends as she realized that she wouldn't want to know what it was like to live a life without Logan, let alone imagine never having been able to experience one. She stood up and took Logan's hand in hers. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Logan asked, tired, and in no mood to be around people.

"We're going to Finn and Rosaline's room. We need to be surrounded by our friends right now, and Finn always provides the comic relief. Stephanie will come out of this, and she'll come out of it a lot faster with her friends just around the corner, enjoying life to the fullest just like she was doing when the accident happened."

Logan stood with her. "You know I love you, right?"

Rory smiled, happy that she was able to get Logan out of his funk for however brief a moment. "The feeling it mutual."

* * *

Even in April, when dusk fell later and later each night, Luke managed to return home to the Crap Shack past dark. It wasn't his intention, but his work at the diner never seemed to dwindle, only multiply.

He walked into the living room, treading quietly so as not to wake Lorelai whom he assumed was asleep. The only lights on were the ones above the kitchen table, and Lorelai was sitting there, her back to the door, feverishly writing and erasing, writing and erasing, interrupted only by the frantic passing of her fingers through her hair. It sounded like she had been crying.

"Hey," Luke said, coming up behind her and squeezing her left shoulder. He moved around the askew chairs and sat in the one directly opposite her. Lorelai didn't look at him. She couldn't.

Luke let them sit, listening to Lorelai's sobs for as long as he could stand. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "Lorelai."

No response, just more scribbling.

Luke sighed. "Lorelai, please look at me."

Lorelai let the hair fall away from her face and lifted her head so Luke could see how puffy and red her eyes were.

His heart broke ten-fold. "Lorelai, what are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

She slammed the pencil down. "Because Luke, I screwed it up again. I talked to Rory and she said I didn't screw it up, that I just needed to talk to you and straighten it out. But how can I do that when you leave and just go up to your empty apartment like we're not even engaged, like this isn't your home? Because it is, Luke. This is your home. Where I am is your home, now. I shouldn't have said what I said, especially not how I said it. I'm just so desperate for us to work this time, because I've never been happier than when I'm with you. So does Crazy Lady Lorelai make a little more sense to you now?"

Luke paused, waiting for Lorelai's words to dissipate. "Yes. She always has, and she always will. And I wasn't staying in my apartment. I came home after you were asleep, slept on the couch, and left to open the diner before you woke up. I was here the whole time, Lorelai. I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

Lorelai reached across the table to grab his hand. "I didn't mean it, Luke. Of course April can be in the wedding, and if you really want Anna there, then she can come, too."

Luke shook his head. "No. This is our day. Our wedding is the next chapter for us, and I can't move on if I'm still reading the last one. I'll invite April and Anna, but strictly as guests. April doesn't have to be in the wedding party to be a part of the wedding."

"I'm so sorry for causing all of this mess," Lorelai said, bowing her head so it touched their intertwined hands.

"Don't be sorry," he whispered, caressing her hair. "Just tell me what the hell you were writing when I walked in."

Lorelai raised her head and sniffed back residual tears. "I was rearranging the seating chart so April could sit at our table."

"I don't deserve you, Lorelai Gilmore," Luke said, once again in awe of his fiancée's compassion, just as he had been when he asked her to marry him.

"I can amp up the Crazy Lady Lorelai if you feel she's more your type," Lorelai said with an impish grin.

"Let's keep her to a minimum," Luke replied after kissing her.

"Deal," she said, returning the gesture.

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! It seems like uploading has become a monthly thing, which works for me, because after this I only have a few pages of Luke and Lorelai's wedding written and that's it. I usually like to have a chapter or two of cushion between my uploads and material in case it's been a while so I can give all my lovely readers an update. I hope this will do for a while as we are quickly coming upon finals. I appreciate all of you who are sticking with this and reviewing. Like I said, I love seeing people engaged with the story. Happy reading!**


	27. It Won't Always Be Like This

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN GILMORE GIRLS

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for keeping you waiting so long! I'm still in finals mode. I was also thinking about uploading the Luke/Lorelai wedding as all one chapter, but it would be too long, and then you lovely people would not be getting an update right now. Happy reading!**

* * *

December, 2008

Luke took a brief moment when he was in the stock room of his diner to allow himself a smile. He wasn't one for town events, certainly not for ones that revolved around him, but he figured just this once, on the day of his wedding to Lorelai, he could allow himself to be touched at how the town had come together to make their homegrown fairytale come to fruition.

He'd been surprised at first—not at the town's willingness, but at Emily's. Richard and Emily had agreed that they were covering the cost of the wedding, and he was sure they would force their only daughter to marry at some stuffy club in Hartford. But things had definitely changed between the four of them—only slightly, but perceptibly. He remembered the day well.

* * *

_May, 2008_

_ "Luke," Lorelai had called, coming into the diner for the umpteenth time that day. _

_ He left the stove for a minute to see what Lorelai needed. "What's up, I'm in the middle of cooking an order."_

_ She sat down at the counter, the center stool that was rarely occupied anymore, since everyone knew that it was Lorelai's favorite spot and there was a good probability she'd come to take it over at a moment's notice. "You are not going to believe the conversation I just had with my mother."_

_ Luke wiped his face and re-adjusted the cap on his head. "Uh oh. That's never good."_

_ "Actually, it was one of our more pleasant exchanges. She called me this morning, very early I might add, and yelled at me for the lack of 'movement' on our wedding plans. When I told her you and I were already working on them, I listened to another ten minute rant about her lack of inclusion in said wedding plans and—"_

_ "Lorelai, I've got food to cook."_

_ "Right, sorry. So anyway after much back and forth, a blood oath for more information on what we were planning, and another Friday night dinner engagement—sorry by the way—she came to the conclusion that our wedding was _not_ going to be in a Hartford country club, but in the town square."_

_ "The town square? Our town square?" Luke was duly surprised._

_ "Yes! She described it as quaint, but a workable space, and said she had already been in contact with that 'funny little man Taylor' about permits and the like."_

_ Luke didn't know if he should be elated or furious. "Lorelai, this is—"_

_ "I know, I know, I already told her that Taylor was to have as little input and influence as possible. But, besides that little hitch…we're going to get married ten yards from where we met. Isn't it cute?"_

_ Luke had to admit it was. It was sappy, and romantic, and charming, and totally against all of his principles. Yet, he couldn't help but smile and kiss his fiancée. He couldn't remember feeling any happier. Except on the day in question, when they had in fact met, in his diner, right where Lorelai was sitting and telling him about their _wedding _plans_.

* * *

December, 2008

Luke knotted up his tie—diagonal stripes of muted silver and navy on top of a white dress shirt, completing the dark blue wool and cashmere ensemble. He slicked back his hair, which was, of course, sans baseball cap. He heard a thunking noise and went out into the seating area to examine.

"How do I look?" The noise had been Jess, not treading lightly on the staircase that led up to the now-empty apartment.

Luke shrugged. "Eh. Not too bad."

Jess slapped him on the shoulder, joshing. "What are you gonna do with all that space anyway?"

"Why, thinking of moving back in? I don't know." They were men of few words, perhaps men of random timing. They didn't often have something to say, but when they did they voiced it.

Jess shrugged. "Okay. Well…I guess we should get going. You ready?"

Luke looked out the window of the diner at the festivities assembling just for him and Lorelai. He didn't move towards the door.

Jess came up behind his uncle and put his hand on his shoulder. "You're not scared, are you Uncle Luke?"

Luke gave his nephew a skeptical look after a minute. "Scared? No. Just remembering this feeling. I don't think I'll ever be this excited or feel this lucky ever again in my life. I'm marrying the woman I've been in love with since the day she walked in here demanding coffee. I never thought…but then I never could have imagined I'd be living a life this good."

Jess smiled. "Aww Uncle Luke, you big softy!"

"Shut up," Luke grumbled in jest. "Let's go."

* * *

_August, 2008_

_ "Uncle Luke, it's a hundred degrees in this suit!" Jess exclaimed. He was clad in at least three layers of clothing in the dressing room adjacent._

_ Luke rolled his eyes. "Jess, it's August. We're getting married in December. Outdoors, barring any bizarre fits of weather. Lorelai would have it no other way. Trust me, you'll appreciate it then." Luke had even come to Philadelphia to go suit shopping with his nephew, who was also his best man. It was partially out of convenience for Jess, and partially because Luke wanted to see Jess in his natural habitat._

_ Both men stepped out from behind their respective curtains, to Liz's delight. She had come along for the trip. "Oh you boys look so great! Don't they just look great?" she appealed to the nearby saleswoman, who was tight-lipped and standoffish in her daunting grey suit and heels. She was politely trying to suppress her exasperation at being forced to work with people of such little class or taste, at least by her standards. But Emily and Richard had insisted on nothing but the best for their daughter's wedding. They had even urged Luke to find the suit he liked and then have the fabric and color details sent to Richard's tailor to have a similar one made for the father of the bride. _

_ Liz fumbled around in her bag for her camera. "Oh shoot, I must have left it in the car," she explained with earnest frustration. "Hold on, don't move. I'll be right back."_

_ Luke and Jess exchanged glances. They were all too used to Liz's antics. They passed the time by preening in that subtly self-conscious way men had. They smoothed their jackets, turned left and right, checked the stubble on their chins, and adjusted the knots of their ties, fidgeting to fill silence. _

_ Jess gave Luke a wary stare._

_ Suddenly aware of the presence of undue attention, Luke returned the gesture with a shooting one of his own over the shoulder. "What are you staring at?" he balked._

_ Jess quickly averted his eyes, back to twelve o'clock where he pretended to focus on his own appearance. "Nothin'. Geez. I was just gonna tell you that you look good. I think Lorelai will approve."_

_ Luke turned to his nephew. "Oh you do, huh?"_

_ Jess raised his eyebrows in consent, but said nothing._

_ Luke grabbed two ties off a wood-paneled shelf behind him and held them up in the mirror to see how they would look on Jess. "I think your girl will be impressed, too."_

_ Jess became wild-eyed. "What girl!?"_

_ Luke smiled and returned the ties to their proper places. "Come on, Jess. This whole Mr. Hospitable, accommodating act…going to try on _suits_ with your uncle and mother…you're under somebody's influence. So, are you bringing her to the wedding or is four months too far in advance to plan for?"_

_ "No, it's not too far in advance. I just don't think I want to subject her to my family yet…or Stars Hollow. That'll really scare her away."_

_ "What, in case your angst wasn't enough? Wow, this _is_ serious," Luke said, a facetious grin parting his lips. _

_ "Very funny. Plus, Rory's gonna be there—"_

_ "Jess. Rory is always gonna be there. She's your cousin. She lives in Stars Hollow. With her husband, who is actually a pretty decent guy."_

_ "You think so?"_

_ "I do. Bring the girl, she'll have fun. Or she'll be too drunk to remember, but same difference."_

_ "Heather. Her name is Heather. And thanks, but no thanks. Don't worry—when the time is right, you'll meet her. Especially you, Luke. She's already heard a lot about you."_

_ "I'm sure you've painted her a very nice picture," Luke commented with sarcasm, turning back to face the mirror._

_ Jess was momentarily abraded. "What other kind of picture would I paint?" Jess appealed the question seriously. Despite their less-than-impeccable track record as guardian and the guarded, Jess had always thought he'd made it clear that it was the circumstances and not Luke that he had been unhappy with. To the contrary, Luke had been the only decent human being Jess had encountered up to that point in his life._

_ Luke was duly touched. He put his hand on his nephew's shoulder and gave it a squeeze—as sentimental a gesture as the two could conceive of._

_ Liz came barreling back into the store, the door yawing on its hinges. "I got it, I got it. It fell under the passenger-side seat. Okay, Jess, put your arm around your uncle. There you go. Now say 'Cheese!'" Liz clicked the shutter closed, and because Liz was an artist with a penchant for vintage, she still used a Polaroid camera. Or because it was the only one she could find before leaving for the trip. As the murky picture began to take full form, Luke finally realized that he had done something right for once. And in December, that would make twice. He was on a roll._

* * *

December, 2008

Emily surveyed the harried scene unfurling in front of her with a mote of distaste. She assumed an affronted pose near the staircase of her daughter's home—arms folded, patent leather heels crossed in third position in front of her, a scowl on her brow—as Rory, Liz, Gypsy, Sookie, Ms. Patty, and Babette ran in circles around her.

"You okay, Grandma?" Rory asked in a rare moment of reprieve.

Emily shot her granddaughter an incredulous glare. "This is _no_ way to prepare for a wedding. Much less to behave at one. The bride should be in the utmost state of calm, the bridesmaids doing any last minute errands. But this is absolute chaos."

Rory gave a subtle eye roll. "Grandma, when have you ever known Mom to do anything she should when other people say she should do it?"

"Never," Emily mumbled grudgingly.

"Then why on earth would I start now?" Lorelai proclaimed, descending down the staircase, absolutely breathtaking.

The bustle of activity stopped to take in the sight of Lorelai, fairy-like in her beauty.

Babette gave a whistle. "Gee whiz, suga'. You're gonna give poor Luke a heart attack."

"And a few other things," Patty stated mischievously.

For once, Emily didn't make a face at the crass comment

"Mom…" Rory breathed, completely taken aback at her mother's talent with fabric. Lorelai had of course insisted she make her own dress, to Emily's dismay. In consolation, she gave her mother full input on the fabric and style.

Lorelai's arms were covered in delicate lace made of a twisted vine pattern. She had gone with a three-quarter-length sleeve given the temperature of the season. The same sheer lace covered her chest, melding with a white satin bodice that featured vertical strips of clear barrel beads, sewn on in varying lengths. The skirt pooled out from the bodice, a collection of layers in tulle, overlaid with chiffon. She was an absolute vision in ivory, contrasted with the raven black of her lightly curled hair. The veil sat high atop her head, pulled back now to reveal her face, made-up to perfection.

Lorelai finally reached the last step and tapped out onto the wood floor of her living room. Her heels were low and comfortable for a long night of festivities.

"What do you think?" she smiled airily. She turned to her mother, whose approval she so desperately craved. It was instinctual, she supposed, to want acceptance from those who were close to us but rarely showed such affection. Of course, Lorelai and her mother had been through enormous changes together in the months leading up to her wedding. Lorelai thought fondly of the memories, waiting to hear her mother's answer.

* * *

_June, 2008_

_ Lorelai had been trying to reach Rory all day. Finally, as Lorelai walked into Luke's diner on a Saturday for her usual lunch, Rory answered the phone. Luke was nowhere in sight, so there was no one to protest the public intrusion that the cell phone had become._

_ "Hey, Mom," Rory said, breathless, into the phone._

_ Lorelai scowled in confusion. "Are you exercising?"_

_ Rory laughed. "No. And if I was, do you think I'd answer the phone while running on the treadmill? I'm not coordinated enough for that as it is."_

_ "You never know. So, I need some help with the wedding details. Are you free tonight? I know it's not a Friday, but we could make a thing of it—go shopping, grab some dinner, a movie, junk food—the whole nine."_

_ Rory was crossing the street in New York City on the way to an interview with the head of the Israeli embassy for her next article. "I don't know if I can make it. My article has to be in by five, I'm meeting Logan for a business dinner, and then we're staying in the city because we'll probably be too tired to drive back."_

_ Lorelai pouted, even though her daughter couldn't see that through the phone. "Pleasseee. I could use a good venting session—just some residual stress from the inn and wedding stuff. You can come in now and finish your article here. Plus Logan doesn't really _need_ you at this thing, does he?"_

_ Somehow, Rory knew the arrangement of her mother's facial expression. "Don't give me the pout. Save it for Luke. And he doesn't need me but I want to be there for him. It's a good opportunity for a European paper acquisition and he's really trying to work on the international division of eHPG."_

_ Lorelai twisted her mouth in thought. "Huh."_

_ "What 'huh?'"_

_ "This is the part where you say_, 'Momma, that's the first time I stopped huggin' first. I like that.'"

_"Why would I say that? I'm not moving across the country or anything, I just need to be at this dinner for Logan."_

_ "Because Logan has finally become more of a priority than me."_

_ Rory stopped on the busy New York City sidewalk, parting disgruntled pedestrians with her dead-in-her-tracks stance. "Oh, Mom, don't say that. I'll always have time for you, just not tonight."_

_ Lorelai shook her head. "No, it's not a bad thing. It's sweet. It's what should happen when you're married to someone and building a life together. I told you that at your wedding, that our relationship would change, and I'm glad it has."_

_ Rory smiled, wistful. "How about Thai food on Wednesday night? We can do a Friday night thing, even though it's not Friday, talk about the wedding. Sound good?"_

_ "Sure, kid." Lorelai said softly into the phone. "I'll see you Wednesday."_

_ Rory hung up the phone and Lorelai brought hers to her lap to dial another number. She punched in the familiar digits with a bit of hostility, but she vowed to let it dissipate as she listened to the consecutive rings._

_ "Hello?"_

_ Lorelai pasted on a saccharine smile of effort. "Hi, Mom."_

_ "Lorelai…how unusual to hear from you in the middle of a Saturday. Is everything alright?"_

_ "Fine, Mom. Actually…I was wondering if you'd like to come by for dinner. I know we saw you yesterday, but I could really use some help with the wedding details and I figured I could pick your brain a little."_

_ There was a beat of silence. "Yes…all—alright. What time?"_

_ "Whenever's good," Lorelai replied, wholly surprised._

_ "Lorelai, you do not invite someone to your house at 'whenever's good.' You set a time. You plan a meal. You consider your schedule and that of your guests—" _

_ "How's five, Mom? Does that work for you?" Lorelai interrupted._

_ Lorelai heard the sound of pages rifling and rolled her eyes. Like her mother really needed to check her schedule. Her Saturdays consisted of a ritual hair appointment and bridge game. What could she possibly have planned?_

_ "Yes, five is perfect, Lorelai. See you then."_

_ "Looking forward to it, Mom," Lorelai said before they hung up the phone. And for once she actually was._

* * *

_ Lorelai smoothed down her collared button down over her black leggings before answering the door, feeling as though she was about to go on a date with the person on the other side. She'd been going for an Uma Thurman in _Pulp Fiction_ look, but didn't think her mom would catch the reference. In either case, the outfit was comfortable. _

_ "Hey, Mom," she said with as much cheer as possible. Even though Lorelai had been the one to suggest the evening, she still felt like her mother had come unannounced—her presence in the Crap Shack was that rare. Her enthusiasm sounded fake, even to her, and her stomach lurched, hoping her mother would take it for genuine excitement._

_ Emily stopped at the door before entering. Of course she always looked impeccable, if a little like a general in her tightly buttoned sweater sets or suit jackets. "You don't have to sound like such an over eager puppy, Lorelai. Neither you, nor your house is on display."_

_ Shoot. "Sorry, Mom. There's just some instinct I act on every time we meet like this."_

_ Emily blinked back the subtle sting of the comment, sure that Lorelai hadn't meant it how it sounded. "I'm sorry for that," she offered._

_ An apology was not what Lorelai had been expecting. Her hand still extended, holding open the door, she dipped her head in awkward acknowledgment and stepped aside to let her mother in._

_ Emily went to drape her beige Burberry jacket over the arm of the couch, but Lorelai scooped it up and hung it in the hall closet. _

_ She closed the door softly and took deep breaths to still her heart, which for some reason thought she was giving a public speech and was pumping her with as much adrenaline. She turned to Emily. "I hope you like Chinese," she said, leading her mother into the kitchen._

_ "Cynthia prepared an Asian themed dinner just before your father left for China last year." Somehow that counted as continuing the line of conversation, even though it sounded like a non sequitur to Lorelai._

_ "Cynthia?"_

_ "Two maids ago; she happened to also be a good cook," Emily said offhandedly, receiving the silverware Lorelai handed her and laying it out on the table among the iconic white cartons; little boxes of high sodium sweet sauces and meats, rices and vegetables, finished with a wire handle—a perfect gift, or Christmas ornament for some poor person's Christmas tree, Emily thought. _

_ "How'd it compare in Dad's estimation?" Lorelai asked, sitting at the table. She briefly considered spreading her paper napkin on her lap but decided against it. They always fell off anyway._

_ Emily took her seat and took a knife and fork in each hand. "He said China did not have any eggrolls, at least not of the caliber Cynthia was able to produce."_

_ "Huh. Too bad she didn't stick around."_

_ "She somehow managed to short-sheet our bed."_

_ Lorelai laughed. "The maids at The Independence Inn did that to all the guests on April Fool's the year Rory was two." The minute Lorelai replayed the memory, she regretted saying it out loud. She knew her pre-Chilton years with her parents were nothing to look back on with any great nostalgia in terms of their relationship, but she wouldn't have said anything if she hadn't felt so comfortable, as if this were almost a normal conversation between friends. Her guard was coming down. She couldn't yet tell if that was good or bad._

_ Emily turned her gaze from Lorelai to the cartons in front of them, trying to suppress a flinch. "Why don't we start?" she suggested._

_ "Yes, of course. Sorry. Um, what can I serve you?" Lorelai asked, relieved that her mother had bridged the first of what was sure to be many awkward moments._

_ Emily surveyed the contents of the cartons with a cursory aerial glance. She laid her silverware down and patted the table nervously. "You know what, let's just eat from the containers and pass them when we get bored."_

_ Lorelai stared at her mother. She was the picture of Jacqueline Kennedy, who wouldn't be caught dead eating out of a Chinese food carton. But here was Emily Gilmore, prim and proper to the bone, suggesting such an undignified manner of eating._

_ "Sure, okay. Whatever you want," Lorelai said, just shy of an incredulous snort. She passed her mother the chicken and broccoli and took the pork fried rice for herself. Emily tucked her napkin into the neckline of her shirt and dug in. Apparently she hadn't come completely unhinged._

_ Lorelai was proficient in the art of using chopsticks. Emily was more comfortable with a fork. They began picking at their food, wholly consumed by the experience as they faced a dearth of conversation._

_ "You know," Emily proffered after too many minutes of silence for either to endure, "this reminds me of my first night in college."_

_ Lorelai looked up at her mother, trying not to choke on her food. "Come again?" She wasn't about to mention the fast-food fest that had been Rory's first night of college, at Lorelai's behest. _

_ "Don't look so shocked," Emily said, a dry barb accompanied by a blatantly pointed look. "My suitemates and I were so utterly put out by exhaustion, we were in no mood to cook, and we'd heard positively awful things about the food at Smith. None of us had ever been away from home for any extended period of time and we were seeking—let's see, you'd probably call it 'comfort food'—so we ordered Chinese. We ate it just like this, only we all vowed to only use chopsticks to make it a more authentic experience. We mostly wound up scooping it up onto the pieces of wood as if they were spoons."_

_ Lorelai switched her carton for sweet and sour chicken. "If only the DAR knew what native ways Mrs. Emily Gilmore had resorted to in her youth."_

_ "Don't be cheeky, Lorelai."_

_ Lorelai threw her head back in frustration. "Oh my god, Mom. It was a _joke_."_

_ "Isn't a joke supposed to be funny?" Emily looked up and shared an impish grin with her daughter._

_ Lorelai pointed a chopstick at her mother. "Well played, Mom. Well played."_

_ The meal continued in a generally amiable fashion. Emily was banished to the couch in the living room after Lorelai refused her incessant attempts to help clean up. Secretly, Emily was proud. A host should never let her guests help do the dishes. Usually Emily did not have to contend with that particular rule of thumb given the extent of her house help, but there had been a time when she had to remember the rules of civility and abide by them with the strictest of care._

_ Lorelai appeared in the living room carrying fortune cookies and coffee. She sat adjacent to her mother on an armchair and served Emily a cup of the brew._

_ Emily took a sip and waited for Lorelai to do the same with her own cup. "The coffee's very good," she remarked to Lorelai._

_ Her daughter smiled. "You know I only drink the best. It's Luke's special blend."_

_ Emily nodded. "I noticed he didn't join us for dinner."_

_ Lorelai lowered her cup from her lips. "He took the late shift at the diner; and he wanted to give us some time together."_

_ "So you could read me the Riot Act and maintain a shred of my dignity?" Emily's expression was completely serious—all mirth of the previous forty-five minutes seemed to have been completely forgotten._

_ Lorelai placed her cup down on the coffee table, flabbergasted. "I beg your pardon?" _

_ Emily mirrored her daughter's actions, choosing not to comment on the lack of a saucer, or coaster at the very least. "I'm not so naïve as to think that you invited me here merely for an amicable evening. Let me guess—Luke complained about my level of involvement in _your _wedding, and after plying me with food and drinks, you're going to tell me off thinking I won't possibly be able to feel guilty after the '_oh so lovely' _evening. Or better yet, Luke doesn't even know I'm here and _you're_ the one annoyed with my meddling. He'll probably come home later so you can casually mention that you took care of your _'pesky mother'_ and she won't be bothering the two of you anymore. Am I right?"_

_ Lorelai stood up, so floored into shock she had to keep moving or she feared permanent immobilization. "You couldn't be farther from the truth, Mom. I don't know why you find it so impossible to accept a genuine show of friendship or family bonding, but it was really hard for me to ask you here tonight. I actually had some things about the wedding I wanted to go over and when Rory couldn't meet me—"_

_ "Oh so I'm just second fiddle, the after thought to save what would have otherwise been an abandoned evening?"_

_ "Can't you just be happy that I thought to call you at all? Yes, Rory couldn't make it, but right after I invited her, I planned on inviting you too, whether or not she was able to come. And it was so freaking difficult because I knew you'd react like this, think it was some shady plot to get you off my back when in fact you haven't been nearly as involved as I thought you'd be and, just once, I thought that maybe my mother would be able to help me with something. I don't ask for help easily, Mom. I'm used to doing things on my own, but—"_

_ "Oh you don't have to tell me that! I know perfectly well what you do and do not accept. Money and holiday dinners are a-okay, but genuine extensions of kindness are completely off limits."_

_ Lorelai's eyes steeled over. It was just like her mother to throw her own ideas back in her daughter's face just to spite her. "That's unfair! Those were the only conditions under which you'd let me back into your life, and even then it was always for Rory. I have pride, but—"_

_ Emily stood now, the picture of a dancer. Odd how she was more graceful and at home in an argument than in her daily conduct. "Yes, that infamous pride. That pride that simply forced you to throw everything we ever tried to give you right back at us—"_

_ "Where do you think I learned it from? Huh? Dad? Mister 'everything will be fine as long as I keep silent and don't show any emotion unless I need to lose my temper?' It certainly wasn't him! That stubbornness was all you, Mom." Lorelai scrunched her hands through her hair, gasping for air. "My god, why do you always take something so good and turn it into something so bad. I was really proud of us for a second there, carrying on totally civil conversation for almost a full hour. But your 'let's make trouble radar' is always going and you were just sniffing for an argument, weren't you?"_

_ Emily fell back on the couch, momentarily struck. "I was not 'sniffing for an argument.' But just like your natural instinct is to pretend to be happy in my presence so I don't question your quality of life, it is something of a natural response for me to assume that when my daughter calls me up out of the blue, the reason is not a positive one."_

_ Lorelai sunk back in her seat as well. She took a deep breath. "We're a mess, aren't we?"_

_ Emily laughed. "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."_

_ Lorelai removed a magazine from between the cushion that had gotten tossed aside in the fray. "Mom," she said softly. "I asked you here to help me pick out fabrics for my wedding dress. I don't know why, but something told me I needed your opinion. No, I…I wanted it."_

_ Emily looked up at her daughter, moving her eyes from their downcast position to Lorelai's face, so fresh and eager and willing to set aside all the pain that had passed between them to share in this one small gesture. _

_ "You…want my help?" Emily asked, entreating with care._

_ "Yes, I want your help. I don't think either of us are too good at saying that, but here I am, asking for it."_

_ Emily took the magazine. "You're sure you want to make your dress because we could always go shopping—" _

_ "Mom. Don't push your luck. I'm making my dress, I wouldn't feel right in anything else. But as far as design and fabric go, I'm totally open to ideas."_

_ Emily started to peruse the pictures, and Lorelai did the same in a different catalogue._

_ "You know, I don't think it's that you're so terrible at asking for help. When you were little, you did that all the time. I was just never able to give you what you wanted or needed and I think after a while you just gave up. You were always something of a free spirit. I tried to raise you the only way I knew how…the way my mother had raised me, to the best of her ability. It just never occurred to me or your father that our little girl, our princess, wouldn't want to be treated like one. And once we realized how ill-equipped we were to deal with that and how disappointing we must have been as parents, well…you know the rest. You lived it." _

_ Lorelai saw a tear douse the high gloss pages Emily had been reading. She reached out to cover her mother's hand with her own. "I know. I know you did your best. Or what you thought was best. But when I was sixteen, I couldn't see that. I see it now, looking back. Especially as a mother. Maybe I didn't always do things the 'right' way, but I always did them my way, because I wouldn't have felt right otherwise. I would never advocate for getting pregnant at sixteen, but having Rory was the best thing that could have happened. Moving away was best, getting out of a place I didn't belong was best. And it wasn't your fault, no matter what Hartford society said at the time. In fact, I should be thanking you. Because now I _do_ see that you did everything you thought was right for me as my mother, just like I do for Rory. And that led me to here, and I couldn't picture my life any different. I don't want to. I just wish I knew how to make you stop feeling like such a failure. Me, my way of life…those things will never change. But if there was anything else I could do to make you see that I don't hate you, that it wasn't you that was so terrible but the life I was hopelessly trying to live up to and failing at, I would do it."_

_ Emily was in full-on hysteria mode now. Emotion was never an area either Gilmore girl exceled at, but they always seemed to bring it out in each other, in tears or in anger. Of course it was neither of their intention to cry, but they'd so rarely had a chance to be so honest with each other without fearing ridicule that scraping off a few layers of that accumulated hostility had stripped them bare._

_ "God damn it Lorelai, you already have. You've already proved I'm not a failure. But you've also proved that I'm a coward, and that's not something you should be burdened with. I'm not a failure as a mother because you found all the things I'd hoped you would, even if they aren't _where_ I thought you'd find them. But I'm too scared to proclaim to everyone who still laments the day you left like it's the biggest black hole to ever mar the English-blooded tree of Connecticut that you've far exceeded my expectations. And _that _makes me a bad mother. You'd never have such qualms about Rory."_

_ Lorelai was not exactly thrilled with her mother's candid admission. On some level, it hurt that her mother didn't love her enough to basically buck all propriety and stand in her corner. But then Emily and Lorelai were different, and Lorelai knew that it had nothing to do with lack of love. Emily had many battles yet to do with her personal demons, battles that could not be fought over night. But they could eventually be won._

_ So Lorelai sat next to her mother on the couch that had been the first piece of furniture she bought for herself when she moved into her new house and rubbed her mother's back, like Emily had done for Lorelai when she was young. Emily may not have known how to bring Lorelai up in a world that her spirit wholeheartedly rejected, but she hadn't been completely clueless when it came to maternal instincts. Lorelai suspected that for most women, it was pretty instinctual, if deeply buried for some. _

_ "I didn't have me as a daughter. It couldn't have been easy."_

_ Emily allowed herself a final choked sob. "I should have tried harder. I should have—"_

_ Lorelai sighed. "Mom…I forgive you."_

* * *

December, 2008

Emily had very rarely felt the sensation of having her breath taken away. She remembered her first visit to Europe had had that effect. She was finally seeing with her own two eyes the art, culture, and architecture she'd only read about in her Art History major. When Lorelai was born, she'd barely been able to breathe, she was so scared she'd screw it up. Rory had certainly taken her breath away the first time she'd heard what an articulate young lady her granddaughter had become in her absence. And then at her wedding she'd done the same.

Emily was sure she'd never get a chance to see her daughter take her breath away on her wedding day. At first it was because she thought she'd never see her again. Then it was that Emily probably would not receive an invitation. Later, it seemed Lorelai would never settle down. But despite all that, all they had come through, Lorelai _was_ settling down, and with a man that loved her more than life itself, and really that's all Emily had ever wanted for her daughter. So when she walked down the stairs of the house that was simple but so utterly perfect for her daughter, into the living room among a group of perhaps the most insanely loving people Emily had ever encountered, and turned to her mother in her swath of white, Emily's breath was taken away. Her daughter was beautiful, yes, but it was more the woman that Emily was finally seeing that so moved her. The strength and wit and endurance…all the things Emily had tried to instill in her daughter in all the wrong ways had been there all along; Lorelai just needed to find them on her own terms.

Holding back tears, because really it was too early for those, she looked up into those eyes, so bright with alacrity. "You look beautiful, sweetheart. From the inside out."

Luke inevitably had a smaller and much less rambunctious procession to herd to the altar. Jess, Logan, and TJ didn't exactly scream uncontrollable, at least not anywhere near as unpredictable a group of groomsmen as Logan or even TJ had had. One, a bunch of trust fund pranksters with too much time on their hands and even more money; the other a smattering of Renaissance fair circuit travelers. It was hard to tell who had had the stranger group.

Lorelai's job, on the other hand was decidedly more difficult. Standing next to her at her wedding would be Sookie, Rory, Liz, Lane, Gypsy, and Mia, who had come back to town for the event.

Emily would have been upset; in fact, she had been. It was Richard who pointed out that if not for Mia and her generosity, this wedding wouldn't even be happening. And if there was one thing in the universe Emily Gilmore could not begrudge, it was her daughter's happiness, whatever the personal or social ramifications that meant for Emily. So she was content to have the distinct, and once thought unattainable, privilege of walking her daughter down the aisle with Richard on her other arm.

Only Babette and Ms. Patty had declined their invitation to be bridesmaids on the observation that they wouldn't look nearly as good as everyone else in the navy raw silk floor-length bridesmaids dresses, adorned with a bateau neckline and silver silk belt just above the hip. Plus there was the perk of getting to watch a good wedding from the sidelines instead of being involved in the drama. And there was always drama, or so the two yentas proclaimed. Where else were they going to get their gossip that could fill a tabloid newsstand for the next month?

Liz ushered everyone out of the house for the short walk over to the town square. Emily and Rory hung back to make sure Lorelai had everything she needed, including her bouquet of white roses interspersed sporadically with violacea pallida tulips. When Emily was sure everything was in order, she went on ahead, leaving only Rory to bring Lorelai over to the proceedings.

Lorelai took one last look at herself in the mirror above the writing desk near the kitchen. How many times had she checked her lipstick before a date, looked to see how tired she appeared before heading off to work, made sure her hair was perfectly in place before going to pick Rory up from Chilton, or going to see Luke at the diner? And here she was ensuring that nothing was out of place for her wedding. She was leaving the house Lorelai Gilmore and coming back with Luke's name attached.

Rory came to stand behind her mother. "Mom, you look fantastic, let's go!"

"Just give me a minute."

Rory peeled her mother away from the desk. "Oh no. You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

"Rory, no. I just want to take it all in for a second, precisely because I _don't_ have cold feet. I've been here, at this spot, wearing a dress like this, or just about to, before and it never felt this…right. Even the first time with Luke it was never this perfect. I just want to feel perfect for another second or two."

Rory smiled in earnest at her mother. She couldn't deny her the satisfaction; Rory understood. Not that she'd been on the precipice of many marriages before, but those few moments before she married Logan, the utter exhilaration of it, of feeling one hundred percent ready for something that was so attainable…it felt pretty good. "Okay. But, you know, you'll have a lifetime to feel that way. Which will only start if we head out that door and to the town square right now."

Lorelai shook her head. "No. It won't always be this perfect. Life, especially married life, is messy and hard, but that's what makes it totally worth it. But right now, it's none of that."

Rory waited another minute for Lorelai to finish basking in her glory. "Mom," she said hesitantly. "The horses are getting antsy."

Lorelai whirled around to face Rory, whose back was to the window in the living room. "The what?"

"The horses. Luke got you a horse-drawn sleigh to take us over to the town square because he didn't want you to have to lift the skirt of your dress the whole way. He remembered how much you liked them from the Bracebridge Dinner."

Lorelai moved to the window to see that Rory was in fact not lying. She turned to her daughter. "He's perfect. Let's go."

* * *

**A/N: Your comments are always welcome! I hope you enjoyed!**


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